


Perfect Strangers

by Deadrabbit92



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boarding School, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Canon-Typical Violence, Dungeon, F/M, Family Drama, Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Malfoy Manor, War, prisoner
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-02-17 01:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2291387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deadrabbit92/pseuds/Deadrabbit92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luna's imprisonment at Malfoy Manor during in The Deathly Hallows is a great near-unexplored plot bunny. She and Draco find unlikely and unexpected solace in each other during their brief time together. Each chapter switches between Draco's and Luna's points of view and there is a lot of interaction with the other members of the Malfoy clan (plus a lot of family history created by me). I'm terrible at summaries but I'm pretty proud of the story. It was previously hosted on ff.net but uploaded the remaining written chapters 4/27/15</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Yay chapter one up. Ok, so this is going to be a really nice (but not fluffy) story about Draco and Luna basically getting to know each other under horrible circumstances. They'll be as close to in character as I can get so it shouldn't get too sappy or sappy at all (I'll do my best). I'm not looking to write a love story, and I want to stay in canon. However, there is of course lots of xwiggle room for a story like this and Luna's pretty spontaneous...we'll see. READ AND REVIEW GUYS! It makes me happy:)

Draco Malfoy tossed and turned sleeplessly in his massive four-poster bed. In the darkness it was almost impossible to make out the green and black linens, yet peaking out from under the coverlet, the boy's silky platinum blonde hair and open, ice blue eyes cracked through the sheet of night in the cold room, almost glowing.

Draco had looked forward to his first night home on holiday; not because he particularly longed for the grand manor or his doting family, but he had believed that his bed, large enough even for that oaf, Hagrid, would be enough to cure his unrelenting insomnia.

He had never thought he'd return to Hogwarts after attemping to kill Albus Dumbledore (though the old fool had went and gotten himself killed despite Draco's failure). As Death Eater he _should_ have believed in the omnipotence of his master, but Draco never really _believed_ that the Dark Lord would succeed in taking over the ministry and the rest of magical Britain. When did evil _actually_ triumph over good? Surely the sodding Order-of-the-Pheonix-wankers should have pulled off some completely impossible plan by the skin of their teeth and overthrew the Dark Lord before he'd won? Where the hell was the Chosen One with his prophetic invincible powers?

_Gone,_ Draco laughed in his head as he finally admitted the battle was lost and gave up on sleep. _Harry-_ Bloody- _Potter_ _ran off and saved his own neck before he ended up losing the head attached to it._ He flipped off his warm covers and hopped out his bed.

Draco had to smirk to himself as he reached for his dressing gown and slippers; _Golden Boy even capitulates better than I do. **He** gave up fighting and managed to escape. **I** gave in to my father's push to become a Death Eater and I'm still suck in this hellhole. _

Draco shuddered as he opened his door to the hallway. The torches burst on to dimly light up the corridor when his toe crossed the threshold, yet were not near warm enough to have any effect on the cold. Even the portraits on both walls shivered and expelled cloudy breath as they snored. Draco envied their slumbers, which were so sound that only one or two of the subjects roused at the sudden light.

He decided if sleep was selfishly staying away from him, then he would drink himself silly until it could evade him no longer. Malfoy Manor's cellar boasted one of the most extensive collections of the finest elf made wines and firewhiskies in all of Britain. His grandfather, Abraxas, had been quite the connoisseur and expanded wine cellar tenfold when he had been patriarch.

Draco could recall many nighttime adventures with Blaise or Crabbe and Goyle when they went down to the storeroom to knick some whiskey. On those nights, in their thirteen year-old stupidity, they would get so drunk they could barely see straight in the morning. Draco would have to threaten the house elves with the worst sort of cruelty he could think of to stop them from telling his parents. Funnily, the simpletons would end up punishing themselves worse then what Draco could have come up with for betraying his parents' trust.

Thinking of his cronies brought to Draco's mind the same annoying thoughts he'd been having for months. Their families were staunch followers of the Dark Lord, like his, yet none of them had taken the mark. Even Pansy, who had been of age longer than any of them, was still not a Death Eater. Draco had been terrified of taking the mark and the black ceremony during which he had the dark symbol seared into his flesh… _NO,_ he wouldn't think about that night again.

Still, at the time he had thought being a Death Eater would have some advantages, I mean, wasn't that the point? Being the among the Dark Lord's most loyal and loved should have got him some special treatment, but as of yet, Draco mused, _it's gotten me jack shite._

It _had_ earned him some awe and admiration mixed with fear from his fellow Slytherins, yet Draco had been too caught up in and terrified of his mission to really enjoy it. His own life and the life of his parents hung on the ability of a sixteen year-old to kill the greatest wizard who ever-lived. _Sorry if I was to caught up in my own little problems to bask in the glory._

And now, despite being a full-blown Death Eater, and he unfortunately was one as he had been tortured by him numerous times- _Death Eaters seemed to be on the receiving end of the Dark Lord's cruciatus curses more than the bleedin' mudbloods were._ He reflected-, Draco had to return to Hogwarts like the rest too cowardly to take the mark. Draco had been shocked to say the least when the Dark Lord inquired one night, in a near whisper, if he had was all packed and excited for his return to a Hogwarts.

At the time, Draco had known that the Dark Lord planned to overthrow the ministry soon with Pius Thicknesse as his puppet minister and Snape in Dumbledore's position as headmaster. It had also been discussed at a previous meeting that attendance would be made mandatory for all children. Draco had thought, however, that since he was no longer a child and because he was a FREAKIN' DEATH EATER, this little law wouldn't apply to him.

Draco recalled that particular night with extreme clarity and thanked Merlin that the sudden murder of Charity Burbage before his very eyes killed his normally quick and venomous tongue. The Dark Lord had addressed him over the hungry hissing of his large pet as she slithered towards Burbage's body. Stunned with horror, his head nodded out of what could only have been a strong involuntary survival instinct, since his brain was completely blank.

_If I had objected at all, he would have killed me right there. It was in his voice, I remember it now, and his eyes practically begged me for any reason to kill me with my own father's wand._ Draco thanked the gods when he got on the train with his life months later. Better at Hogwarts than dead.

Except Draco wasn't completely sure that was true anymore. His first term had been the worst of his life. He and his family were disgraced and no Slytherin would speak to him for fear that their families would be associated with his and his fathers respective failures. It was like he was filth.

This was nothing compared to the looks and threats coming from the rest of the students. After all, he _killed_ Albus Dumbledore, their damn god. It probably would have been better if he had set Father Christmas on fire and pissed on his charred body. No one knew exactly what happened on the Astronomy Tower except Harry Potter, and big shock, he wasn't jumping to Draco's defense. The general reimagining seemed to have put Snape and him up there doing a jig, arm-in-arm, as Dumbledore's body fell broken on the ground.

The thought made Draco laugh. Yeah, he and Snape, best of chums- the blighter hadn't spoken to him or looked at him all of term. Well none of the teachers had, Draco mused. He had even dropped McGonagall's class, even though it was one of his best, because he couldn't stand her looking at him. Draco couldn't place his finger on it, but the way the witch scowl would sometime morph to glistening eyes only he noticed made him want to throw up.

Classes weren't even the worst bit. He couldn't walk down the corridors without getting jinxed from a student or one of the Carrows. It would have been _something_ to at least have had his own godfather on his side since all his parents offered him was letters of warning or admonishments to be good- _or bad, in the usual sense_ \- he supposed- and to remember that they could be killed if he did the slightest thing to upset the Dark Lord. Not surprisingly, he wasn't all that jazzed about his holiday at home; it was just better than school.

Just as Draco began to plot several ridiculous and crazy plans to avoid going back to school next term (three of which involved hippogriffs), he heard voices in the main hall. _Did I really walk all the way here without even realizing?_ He must have. Draco heard his father's angry voice amplified by five because of the acoustics of the room.

"I simply do _NOT_ understand. Are we not in complete control of Azkaban? Must I feed and care for every effing apostate that blew his nose against the Dark Lord? Is my home to become a damn bastille?"

"Dark Lord said take 'er 'ere, and 'ere is where I'm leavin 'er. If ye got somthin' to say 'bout it, take it up with _him_. Though I will say this, Malfoy, ye already lost ye wand, if ye want to lose your head with it, keep flappin' that mouth," the voice spoke menacingly.

Draco was closed to bursting through the door and killing the man who dared speak to his father in such a manner, when he heard his aunt begin to defuse the situation. He listened behind the archway and dug his nails of his fisted hand, which held his want, into his flesh to keep his anger at bay.

"Of course we'll do exactly as the Dark Lord wishes, Rowle. How exactly did the little chit offend him?" Draco could almost hear the love in his crazed aunt's voice when she said "Dark Lord."

Rowle spoke, "'Er father's that nutter,Lovegood, who's been writin that shite 'bout supportin Potter. Dark Lord told me to take 'is daughter but not to kill 'er. "Parently she's Potter's friend."

"The Dark Lord always knows," Bellatrix whispered, as if it was a prayer.

"Course, an' I wasn't gonna question 'im. So I got 'er, brought her to ye, an' yer to hold on to 'er an' interrogate 'er. And that's that." Draco peeked behind the arch to see Rowle look pointedly at his father. The anger crept up within Draco again, forcing him to jump into the hall with his wand raised.

"Oh hello, Malfoy." Draco heard a female voice quietly say, almost pleasantly. He was so shocked he almost dropped his wand. He doubted anything had been said with near as much good cheer in this house for a year, at least. He looked around for the owner of the voice and found, of course…

Luna Lovegood.


	2. Chapter 2

"Draco, what _are_ you doing up?," his mother finally decided to enter the conversation, apparently. _Not to defend my father of course, just to nag at me._ Whatever unbending loyalty Narcissa had felt for her husband during Draco's childhood had finally bent after Lucius lost his wand.

"I thought I smelled filth cross the threshold and decided to fetch a house elf to come take care of it," Draco said in a rather bored and half-hearted tone. It was almost if he was repeating a school lesson for the 200th time; his mouth could produce this venomous speech automatically, like a machine. In the Malfoy family there were right answers and wrong answers just as there was the right way to think about things and the wrong.

Rowle must have thought Draco was talking about him, ( _and honestly the term "filth" may have been more accurately used if I had been)_ , because he moved to raise his wand at Draco—

"Rowle, now that you have been a good delivery owl would you kindly get the _hell_ out of my house?"

Rowle smirked at Draco, "Tah boyo, be careful where ye point that stick, now. Ye may poke out an eye." Laughing, he let go of Lovegood and strode out of the hall.

Lovegood barely reacted to being released from what must have been a very uncomfortable position (the much taller Rowle had been holding her left arm at an extremely awkward angle). She turned her gaze from Draco to look at each of his parents and then his aunt steadily for a few seconds. The three were still glaring at the large doors Rowle had exited from, ignoring their new charge until she spoke:

"Soooo…" she drew out as if to break an awkward silence, "What now?" Lovegood asked with a shrug, almost uninterestedly. It was clear to Draco from the long pause that they had no idea "what now." It was after all, 2:30 AM on Christmas Eve (or Day), and an unexpected command from the Dark Lord to interrogate (read: torture) was a little…well, unexpected.

Bellatrix took out her wand, holding loosely in her hand while grinning quite madly at Lovegood. "Girly, clearly you do not understand the situation you're in. Can't have that now can we? Hogwarts is supposed to produce only _smart_ witches, so I suppose I'll have to continue your education. See Draco? Only Slytherin produces wizards of any real measure." Bella lectured him as if he was still before wand-age.

"When have I ever said otherwise, Aunt? _Sanctimonia Vincet Semper(1),_ like I could forget. However, though I can see you itching to abuse this witch—

-BLOOD TRAITOR!

\- to the point when you're incapable of stopping your own drool from seeping out of your mouth, - _would you like a handkerchief by the way, Aunt_?—perhaps it can wait until tomorrow? It _is_ time for family merry making, unless maiming and blood stained floors are to become a new Christmas tradition?

Bellatrix gripped her wand tightly and aimed its tip right at Draco's heart. Her mad eyes bulged comically out of her sockets. Draco saw Lovegood mimic her deranged facial expression (she giggled to her self when she failed to make her eyeballs protrude near as far as his aunt's) and smiled a little.

"YOU LITTLE SHIT—"

"Bella, you DARE point your wand at my son in my own home?"

Narcissa rounded on her sister, wand raised, while her husband shouted at his in-law from afar. _Even with a wand, you'd have to have some balls to take that nutter on in a duel.(2)_ After a few seconds; Draco grew almost as bored of the scene as Lovegood looked.

With a snap of his pale fingers, Draco summoned one of the family house elves to add pandemonium. The Malfoy elves spent their evenings cleaning the mansion and sleeping very little so as to be alert in case one of their masters needed them. Following a loud _pop_ (one that went unnoticed by the still quarrelling adults and Lovegood), a pinkish creature appeared in front of Draco. Its body was bent forward in a bow so deep; its tiny nose skimmed the stone floor.

"How may Gerda serve you, Young Master?" It squeaked while keeping its rather large green eyes on fixed on the ground.

"Gerda, take our new prisoner down to the cellar with the others. See that she has some food or something. At least someone in this God-forsaken house should have a happy Christmas." Draco said coldly while Gerda bowed quickly and rushed off to where Lovegood stood.

In the meantime, girl had turned from her captors and faced a rather large painting of his however-many- greats grandfather battling a chimera atop a winged horse. Although quite a magnificent and vibrant rendering, Lovegood seemed most intrigued by the bottom left corner, which portrayed a rather grey section of the cliff on which the beast stood. However, her attention was soon drawn to stumpy Gerda, who was briskly waddling her way. It was as if Lovegood sensed the elf coming because she turned and smiled at the creature before it had reached her.

Draco was taken aback when the much taller human stooped down so she was eye-level with the elf, reaching out to shake Gerda's hand while mouthing an introduction. Clearly Gerda was even more shocked than her master. The little elf jumped four feet back clearly unsure of how to react to this strange human.

Lovegood didn't seen put off at all at the elf's rude manner. _I bet Looney is used to people trying to get as far away from her as possible._ Although Malfoy was vaguely aware of Lovegood's reputation, he previously had little interaction with that was not Potter-related. He could now say that she most definitely deserved the moniker.

Draco's head began to pound. All the screaming combined with no sleep was getting to him. He wanted this agonizing scene done with so he could go drown in a bottle of one hundred year old firewhiskey. "GERDA, GET HER OUT OF MY SIGHT NOW!"

The elf squeaked and ran forward as if she had been struck. Grabbing Lovegood by the arm, she apparated, Draco assumed, to the cellar. His outburst finally broke up the family squabble and they all looked at him incredulously.

"I'll say goodnight then. Happy Christmas," he mumbled and walked through the door into the parlor. Closing the large door behind him, he could hear his family start up again, though perhaps they were losing steam. _Perhaps Looney will be safe tonight, Bella seems to have exhausted her strength to match her sanity._

Draco looked around the parlor and breathed in deep. With all the chaos, his need to get far, far away made him momentarily forget where he was. The room contained a large table and little else. Last year, and every year he could remember, holiday dinners had been here. Malfoy parties were extremely exclusive events, yet the members of the upper crust of society who attended were large enough in number to fill every seat. Two years ago, Fudge had sat at his fathers right side and consumed so much wine his face flushed purple. _And father laughed and laughed afterwards at the fool, who had sat where the Dark Lord had only the night before without knowing._

The room was sickening to Draco now. He could still picture Burbage hanging disturbingly in the air, moments from death. While at school, Draco kept himself from looking at the dead witch's former seat on the staff table (a difficult task when Alecto Carrow's nasally voice could be heard daily: accusing every student in Hufflepuff of being a mudblood or a squib over her morning bacon). But here, alone in the room where she died, Draco could not keep his feelings at bay. Mixed with revulsion and terror and ( _guilt?)_ , he ran out of the room. He kept running until he stumbled into the door leading to the wine cellar.

Draco already felt drunk. His legs were like jelly and he was a tad dizzy. Fully aware drinking wouldn't help his mental state at the moment, he stumbled down the stairs anyway, grabbing the first bottle on the shelf.

He slumped down to the floor, leaning against the rack of whiskey and taking large chugs from the bottle. With each swallow, the burning fire that should have distracted his brain from anything else failed to make him forget his depression or self-pity.

Eventually, when the bottle was nearly finished, a single tear fell from his reddened ice-blue eyes. Draco never noticed his own moment of weakness; he was fast a sleep before the tear reached the tip of his pale nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) The Malfoy Family Motto visible on their crest meaning Purity Always Conquers  
> (2) As you should recall, Luna did take that nutter on in the Battle of Hogwarts- such a badass.


	3. Chapter 3

Luna had closed her eyes when the little elf had tugged on her arm to disapparate from the main hall. She hated the feeling of apparation ever since her father had told her about the time he was near squeezed into jelly by a tangelamon(1), whilst on a trip in Myanmar (the creature had not been seen by a witch or wizard for over 500 years) and compared the experience to the instant travel technique. When her feet met solid ground, Luna opened them again, but her receding lids and lashes unveiled the same blackness that she had discovered under them.

Momentarily unnerved, she reached behind her, hoping to find the comfort of a wall to lean against. It didn’t take the Ravenclaw in her to know that it was easier to defend oneself if you could narrow down the directions enemies could come from by a fourth (excluding from above and likelihood that there was a vicious, man-eating shadow-scraper lurking somewhere in the walls). As soon as her fingers tips brushed the cold and rough surface, the large room lit up as bright as the Great Hall during Christmas.

The source was not thousands of floating candles, but the curious house elf that was snapping its fingers rapidly and humming to the beat. Each snap was followed by a feint “pop” as a small cot, a blanket, a nightgown and a water basin materialized out of thin air. Lastly, a small soup bowl and a bread roll were summoned by the sharp sounds of the elf’s boney fingers. The elf caught the food and shuffled forward, thrusting it into Luna’s hands.

“Thank you, miss…or I mean, was it ‘Gerda?’” Luna asked softly with a small smile, not wanting to frighten her again. _I wonder if she swallowed an exploding snap card, since she’s so jumpy. I read somewhere that if consumed with a pinch of salt, they can ward off sleep for hours. Small wonder, I bet explosions in your intestines_ could _keep even the Sloth Demon of Panama awake_. The elf cringed and walked backwards, disapparating without looking at Luna, and taking the light with her. Her father had always said that she had gotten her near photographic memory from her mother, and she had never been more thankful for it. The lights had only been on for a moment but she knew about seven steps forward and three to the right would bring her to the cot.

She took the steps and bent to sit on the low cot, without even stretching out a hand to see if she had actually reached it first. If she hadn’t, the surety with which her arse plummeted from above would have left her with quite the bruise if she missed the cot and landed on the hard stone. However, her mother’s hand-me-down memory didn’t fail her (it rarely did) and she landed on the mattress with a “huff.”

As Luna sat, legs crossed gracefully at the ankle and the bowl between her hands in her lap, she questioned allowed, “What now?” for the second time of the evening. The impenetrable darkness offered no answer, so Luna answered herself silently. _I saw a door in the corner, and there’s another across the room. I wouldn’t bet a knut on the chance of either one being unlocked, but I suppose I should be sure._ Luna could only imagine what Professor Flitwick would say if he found her sitting unawares in an unlocked cell because she hadn’t bothered to check the doors.

Before she could move, however, her stomach growled loudly. The sound reminded her of two things: the fact that she had not eaten since that Chocolate Frog on the Hogwarts Express hours and hours before, and the sound her lion head made when in roared. She smiled at the memory and wondered where Harry, Ron and Hermione were today. She new they were out there, wherever “there” was, trying to bring down Voldemort (and not on the run, abandoning the cause as the Prophet published), but she still hoped they were taking the time to have a happy Christmas.

Luna took a tentative sip of soup. It could be poisoned or have Veritaserum in it, but she couldn’t starve and would have to risk it. It was pretty thin, but not un-tasty, and reminded her of her father’s plimpy soup. In the spring, the plimplies were plentiful in the small stream near her home, and her father would sing to her as she walked home with a bucketful destined for the cooking pot. The song he would sing most often was from her mother’s favorite muggle movie, _Cinderella._ Luna carried the tune from her memory and began to sing:

 _Oh, sing, sweet nightingale_  
Sing sweet nightingale, high above  
Oh, sing, sweet nightingale  
Sing, sweet nightingale high  
Oh, sing, sweet nightingale  
Sing, sweet night—(2)

 

            “SHUT THE HELL UP!”—

 

—Draco screamed and threw open the door. He had heard the singing in his sleep and its loveliness had seduced him from his forgotten dream to the waking world.  His head was throbbing, and not surprisingly, his back ached. He had glanced at his watch and determined he had only been asleep on the hard floor for half an hour or so, and had wanted nothing more than to re-pass out in this own bed. The quickest route would have been to summon Gerda or one of the other elves and be apparated back to his room, yet it would have certainly ended in his parents being informed of his drunken indiscretion. Even his most trusted and (loved?)kind elf, Gerda, who had looked after him since birth, would have given up him up to his parents. _A death eater and a man-grown and I can’t even get righteously pissed in my own home._

Draco had been moving to the cellar stairs when he noticed that the singing was coming from the room adjacent. He thought it must have been Lovegood, though he had meant for her to be in the holding cellar with the rest. Her singing had infuriated his aching brain as well as his ego. _This bint sits prisoner in the bowels of Malfoy Manor, seat of the one of the oldest and most powerful wizarding families in Britain, and she’s SINGING?_ In his half-drunken state, Draco could not suffer the insult.

With his summoned Hand of Glory (the magical treasure would give him light while still leaving Lovegood in darkness- having once gotten lost in the maze of cellar rooms in his youth, he knew how scary the cold darkness could be), he crashed open the door and bellowed. _A little theatrical perhaps, but at least it scared the witch silent._

Silent, that was true, but nothing in her posture or look showed that she was the least bit frightened of the young death eater.  In fact, Draco was more put off by _her_ than she by him. She looked straight at him, even though it was dark, well _looked_ was not quite the right word because her eyes were closed. Her large lids were smooth and pale and seamed to sear into Draco’s own eyes.

“Wh-What are you doing?” He asked, confused.

            “Being held captive, so far there’s little to it besides sitting here and eating soup,” she mused, with a dreamy air to her voice.

            “And singing.”

            Lovegood tilted her head without replying, her eyes still shut. “For god’s sake, open your _eyes._ How can you carry on a conversation with someone without looking at them?” he questioned, exasperated.

            “Opening them to blackness seems foolish to me- I still won’t see you, besides I’m not very interested in looking at or talking to you,” she said in an almost bored voice, pausing for a second before adding, “you’re eyes are open, but I still doubt that you _see_ anything.”

            Draco didn’t know what to make of what she was saying and his brain hurt too much to attempt to process anything. Still, he cast a _lumos_ spell and illuminated the stone room.

            She opened her eyes slowly, and blinked several times until she adjusted to the dim, yet sudden, light. They looked around the room, from corner to corner, as if appraising every stone, before returning to look at her captor.

            “Have you adopted a family of wrackspurts?”

            “What?”

            “I guess you must just be drunk then. I’ll never understand what would motivate someone to dull their mind to the point where they are beyond rational thought. Very curious; I’ve heard the matter is studied in the Department of Mysteries.” Lovegood stood, the cot creaking under her. She turned from Draco and walked to the other end of the room. Her movements could be described as extraordinarily fluid. Her arms swung dramatically, yet gracefully, and her hair seemed to float behind her.

            “Just silly things like having your own family being held captive, your very own life being basically forfeit, everyone despising you and laughing at you, Oh, and let’s throw in being trapped in this hell hole of a house for good measure.”

            Lovegood looked at him, her arms folded around herself, shivering. Draco was less than pleased at her sudden show of weakness, which disturbed him. He decided to deal with his feelings (Compassion? Sympathy?) by lashing out. “HA,” he barked loudly, “ I suppose I should get you a bottle of your own. I’m sure if I explain to the Dark Lord how we’re kindred spirits, he won’t mind me drinking with the prisoner and known Potter-supporter. How is the old Scarhead, anyway? Been in touch?”

            “Is this your version interrogation? The ministry has an army of heliopaths to intimidate its enemies, you know, though maybe they left when Fudge was sacked. It’s still funny to think that all your Lord has at his disposal are scared little boys and their crazy families.” She laughed and continued, “He might as well have an army of higglepigs.”

            Luckily for her, Draco had stopped listening after her first question. He didn’t know when the “interrogation” would begin, but this little wisp of a girl would most likely not survive it. Dear Aunt Bella like to toy with her food before she sliced into it. “Listen, Lovegood, when they do come for you, and they will eventually-though perhaps they will heed what I said and keep the holiday… _holy-_ you must give them what they ask for. It will do not good to resist, I’ve seen the resistors and they all give in the end. Mark what I say, girl.”

            Lovegood unwove her arms from about her body and walked up to Draco so that she stood two feet away from him. “No,” she said simply and softly before turning back to and sitting on her cot. She studied the stone support column in front of her.

            _She’s completely batty and senseless. This is why I never try to be nice; it just gives me a headache._ He turned to leave, dreaming of his pillow, when the girl spoke:           

 _“_ Who were Lorcan and Lysander?”

Draco took his hand off the door and said in a near whisper, “How could you know those names?”


	4. Chapter 4

  
“Rather simply. They’re etched into the stone. Just there, “ Lovegood said while  pointing at the thick column with rough edges. Draco rushed forward and crouched  down in front of the crude carving.   


_ “Lorcan and Lysander Malfoy I  _

_ llegitimus non Carborundum” _

  
Draco mouthed the words in an attempt to make them seem more real. Ever since he had received his wand over nine years ago, (Draco’s parents  had believed their son above tradition and had taken him for his wand “fitting” at a n early age) Draco had been studying Latin. One of his most prized possessions was an  extremely old, leather-bound secondary school Latin textbook. Often, when he was  alone in his dorm room (something that had been a rarity before he took the Mark and everything went to hell) he would flip through the tome, each page almost  memorized. He had stolen the book from a London shop the very same afternoon he  had received his wand, after ducking his parents, who would never have approved. The young wizard had dreamed of the greatness of Merlyn or even his celebrated  grandfather and had wanted to study the language from which most spells were  derived. He attributed his easy ability to learn incantations to his knowledge of the  near-dead tongue. He believed the muggle book had been enough to put him towards the top of  his class, but that hardly made him fluent in language. However, despite an  elementary education, Draco knew enough to understand what his long-dead  relatives had been trying to say. “’Don't let the bastards get you down,’ that’s funny. You’re relatives are  funny, Malfoy, I never would have thought. You’re interior decorating certainly says  otherwise.” Lovegood bounced up and down on her cot, producing an unpleasant  squeaking sound that seemed to agree with her assessment of his family’s character. Draco was momentarily distracted from his shock at seeing remnants of the  infamous twins whose very names had been purged from the family genealogy, turned to look at his prisoner. “You know Latin?”   


“Mhmm,” the girl answered casually.

“I mean, you’re fluent? You can speak it conversationally?”

  
“Mhmm,” she paused a moment before elaborating. “My mother taught it to me when I was very little; we used to have whole conversations in Latin. She  thought that because the majority of our spells come from Latin, it must be like  elemental magic, it simply  is  power. That makes sense when you think about it. Even  when you do nonverbal magic, you still need to  _think_   the words, right? It’s so   difficult to do magic without the incantations, I’ve tried.  If you focus hard enough, you can feel the power of the words when the chains of sounds link together, it’s like  weaving fine threads of energy and when you complete the spell it’s just… beautiful. Ancient wizards spoke these words like it was normal speech. If wizards today  spoke  their magic and really  lived  it, we could be as enlightened and in tune with our  essences as the greatest wizards and witches like Merlyn or Circe. At least…that’s  what mum thought.”    


  
Lovegood’s rant touched Draco. Her sincerity and obvious love of magic so plain and honest.  _ Merlyn, if McGonagall could be even half as vivid or passionate as this  girl when she drones on about proportional transfigurations, I would actually be  _persuaded to pay attention in lecture._   _ Something specific she had said sparked Draco’s interest. “So, learning Latin  and speaking it makes a wizard more powerful?”   


  
“Well that’s not exactly what I said. You know something? I’ve often found  the most interesting and often catastrophic misunderstandings are caused glossing  over subtle differences. I do believe you’re about to misunderstand something  catastrophically.” Draco didn’t hear her; the brain under his white-blonde hair was whirring far  too loudly. He already knew some Latin and he bet that Lovegood could teach him  loads more while he was home. He was a quick study and it’s not like he had  anything else to do- lonely nights at school had given him ample time to finish his  break homework and he doubted that he’d be visiting any of his mates or fooling  around with Pansy, as he had in past years.   


“You can teach me Latin.”

“No.”

  
Draco nodded enthusiastically. “Of course you can! Aren’t you ‘Claws always  going on about how effing smart you are? And I’m no ‘Puff so I’ll pick it up with little  open-mouthed drooling or head-scratching.” At this point, he could never out-cast  his parents and Aunt Bella could best him in her sleep.  _But maybe_ ,  Draco’s inner  hopeful child insisted,  _ just maybe this could be enough for me to have the power to  _ _get my parent’s and me far from here and cloaked from the Dark Lord’s hounds_.   


  
“ I’m sure I could teach you a great deal, but I won’t- not can’t, mind you -will  not. Learning  the language is not enough. You could speak like the shamans of the  East and still be about as blocked as a jacksproot(1) under the full moon. Besides, there are so many interesting things in this cellar. I’ve been here less than an hour  and look what I’ve already discovered. “    


  
She pointed at the scratched letters on the  stone.  Her gesture returned Draco’s focus to the names. They were taboo in the  Malfoy household, though their lives were the worst kept secret in the family.  Lorcan and Lysander had been figures of myth to the young Draco- forbidden, dangerous, and shameful- yet also exciting . At this moment however, he wished for  the first time that he could have turned out like them instead of the dutiful  pureblood son, like he had been raised. He sighed.   


  
“How about I give you some extra blankets or food for the lessons? That’d be  fair enough, don’t you agree?” he asked reasonably and coaxingly.   


  
“No.” The young woman replied in a bored voice, but her roaming eyes  suddenly snapped to attention and peered into Draco’s. “Unless you agree to tell me  about your family.”   


  
“My family,” Draco said slowly before smiling wickedly. “Well, shall I start  with my mother then? She’s a right old cun—“   


  
“—I mean about  these  fellows. Lorcan and Lysander.”   


  
“They were  not  family.” “They have your last name.”   


  
Draco was stuck. His parents had only spoken of his two great-great-uncles a  few times, hating to talk about family shame, even if it occurred generations ago. Not  feeling anything towards his kin that wasn’t prickly at the moment, why should he  worry about Malfoy honor? Besides, he’d be  saving  his parents by learning all this little odd bird had to teach him.

  
“Deal.”  Lovegood nodded and spit in her hand, holding it out to her captor. Draco  rolled his eyes and reflected that just two years ago, he would have sneered at the  little freak who would have suggested that his word could have been secured over  shared salvia- disgusting and provincial by the way \- and a hand shake -he was a  Slytherin for Christ’s sake.  Perhaps the year of near isolation and loneliness made  him starved for any kind of human intimacy and maybe he was just becoming  honest,- doubtful-  but Draco repeated Lovegood’s action and expectorated into his  hand before shaking hers. It was a silent promise, and he did mean it.  Lovegood must have seen the honesty in his eyes (or felt it in his spit) because she gripped his palm tightly and said:   


“Deal.”

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

"Well let's start now then, yeah? We have a few hours before I have to join in the Malfoy Family Christmas Splendor Extravaganza." Draco sat down next to Lovegood on the cot, causing it to squeak and sag under his weight.

"No, I'm sleepy. It's been a bit of a long day, you know." She lay down slowly, trying to stretch out and nudging Draco off her bed with her toes. "Besides, if you don't sleep in on Christmas, Krampus(1) will think you're up doing dark magic and punish you." She closed her eyes and snuggled the thin blanket under her chin.

"Are you kidding?"

"Maybe."

Draco, although not generally used to being dismissed by his own prisoners (or by anyone), turned to leave the cellar room. Despite his newfound enthusiasm _,_ he had practically jumped when Lovegood's feet poked his hand- _Merlyn her toes are cold! She was barefoot this whole time; crazy bint was probably dancing shoeless_   _with the faeries in two feet of snow when they snatched her-_  and getting up so suddenly had made his head spin.  _Starting to learn Latin pissed would probably mess up the good magic mojo I'm trying to rack up by speaking the dead tongue anyway._

Before he closed the heavy door behind him, Draco heard the girl quietly speak, "Vale(2), Draco. Happy Christmas."

It was as if a headache struck Draco like lightening. The throbbing behind his temples was accompanied by the roaring of his own inner conscience- _WHY IS SHE BEING SO NICE TO ME?_ However, he matched her softness for softness when he answered, "I'll have Gerda bring you a few more blankets."

He ended his  _lumos_ spell, but was disquieted by the total darkness that had taken over the cellar. With his foot propping the door open, Draco fumbled for his discarded wine bottle. Once he had hold of it, he silently cast a complex transfiguration spell.  _And McGonagall said I never paid attention in her horse-shite class._ His left hand tucked his wand into his back pocket while his right placed the newly crafted lantern on the hard floor. He turned it on dimly before he finally left his prisoner and locked the door behind him.

/

Draco trudged up the stairs and continued onwards toward his room. He blocked all thoughts other than sleep from his mind while his whole body practically screamed for his mattress. His reaction, then, to being cut off mid-stumble just feet from his door by his aunt was less than warm.

" _What the bloody hell do you want?_  Don't you ever sleep, you fucking vampire?"

"Temper your tongue, nephew, before I cut it out and break your dear mother's heart. Narcissa asked for you. Go to her bedroom."

"No, thank you. I've had enough family affection for tonight. Why don't you find a rafter to hang from, and tell my dear mother to do the same."

A force hit his cheek like a hard slap, though he maintained a smile. "You've been spending too much time with that blood traitor. Mark me, brat, don't make a habit of it.  _Now go see your parents."_ Bellatrix flicked her wand and suddenly Draco found himself in front of his mother's door. With little choice, he rapped his knuckles against he wood loudly.

His mother opened the door. Her blonde hair was frazzled and her ice-blue eyes were bloodshot. Months ago, Draco would have been unnerved to see his mother in such a state- _Narcissa was always one for appearances._ However, this reduced form of his mother had appeared rather frequently since his father went to jail, so Draco was no longer shocked by it.

"It's late mother, go to sleep."

"Sleep? Draco, do you have any idea what's happening?"

Draco sighed.  _I guess its dramatics tonight. "_ Besides our imprisonment in our own home, the very ancestral home that has been taken from us by our most venerated lord? Besides Father's "mishaps" and my new position as Hogwarts' resident pariah? The deaths and disappearances of our own friends and allies? Your sister strutting around  _Malfoy_  Manor like she owns the place, giving commands to you and father alike? How about the little secret that your nerves are so shot that you're  _losing_   _your magic—"_

Draco felt the sting of a slap for the second time that evening, but this time no smile came to him. He looked up searching for his mother's blue eyes and expecting to see tears, but she had already turned away toward the rising sun, which was slowly peeking through the window. Only then did it occur to him that Lucius was not with his wife in their bedroom.

"Mother, where's Father?"

"He went out, he said he needed to clear his head."

"He's not allowed to leave the property, the Dark Lord—"

"I'm sure he won't cross the bounds. My husband knows his duty, whether you believe it or not. Everything he has ever done has been for his  _family_ , to serve and protect us. Now go, I've forgotten what I wanted to say to you and if all you're going to do is glare and give me cheek, I'd rather not speak to you. I'll see you at Christmas Breakfast at 10:30, as always."

"Mother, after everything that has happened…it's already 6:30 for Merlyn's sake!"

"For once, Draco  _Malfoy_ , put your family duty firs _t,"_ she said almost sadly, while turning away from her son completely.

Although he was clearly dismissed, Draco stood where he was. That last chastisement had wounded him deeply. His throat and eyes began to sting worse than both his cheeks combined- it took a great deal of effort to keep his voice steady and look at this mother's back rather than the floor. "I  _tried,_ Mother, I really did  _try_. For you, for father—I just couldn't kill him. I'm sorry."

His mother paused before answering, "I-I'll see you at Christmas Breakfast, get some sleep, son."

Draco left his parent's bedroom and walked down the hall. His headache was gone and he no longer felt drunk, yet somehow he still felt like someone had kicked him in the chest.  _I'll make it up to her. I will build our family back up to its former glory and I'll use the bones of the Dark Lord as my foundation._ He made similar vows and plots all the way back to his room- anything to stop thinking about his apology to his mother.

Neither of his parents had ever brought up the Dumbledore catastrophe, and Lucius had almost blinded Bellatrix when she had. Draco had always thought it was because they were ashamed of him, and tonight had confirmed that.  _But I won't think of that now._ He put his head on his pillow.  _I'll make it all better; starting tomorrow no one will remember I failed._ He was so tired that he fell asleep almost instantly, without even noticing the sun had now fully risen and was shining brightly into his room.

* * *

Although Draco had believed that a kooky girl such as Luna would have been able to fall asleep easily in a foreign and frightening pseudo-prison cell, she had laid there for nearly an hour before she could sleep. She thought of her father, her friends, the war, and how afraid she was.  _Will they threaten to hurt my father if I don't tell them anything-or am I the threat?_ Xenophillius was a good man, she knew, but he would do  _anything_  to get Luna back.

She had always felt bad about keeping certain things from her father, not little things like the boys at school she liked or her poems. She loved sharing her life with her him, who understood her best. But she told him little about Harry Potter's plans, and kept anything that could be used against him to her self.  _Now I'm glad I did, that way I don't have to worry about him doing anything rash. Besides, maybe he'll finish his diadem and figure out a way to save me and defeat Voldemort by tea-time!_ She smiled at this.

It was a nice dream- but she wasn't asleep yet. She couldn't ignore the stone walls around her or the locked door keeping her in. It was only then that she began to wonder how long she had left. It was almost funny how many times she had escaped Bellatrix in the past, only to be delivered directly into her clutches.  _I doubt I'll live much longer. It's a shame; I will have so little time to learn about Lorcan and Lysander! They must have been two truly fascinating wizards. Oh! Draco will have to find a more permanent Latin tutor, I'm sorry I won't be able to help him…_

And it was with his final thought of Draco Malfoy that Luna Lovegood finally fell asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I was looking up a gift giving creature and i found this crazy fucker. Krampus is a companion of Santa Claus in Alpine countries that goes around punishing bad children while Santa rewards the good. For further reading and pictures www. krampus . (remove spaces).
> 
> 2) Goodbye in Latin. I haven't taken the language in 3 years so I'm not looking forward to writing the actual lessons.
> 
> A/N So what did you think? I can't tell if I'm getting to angsty or if Draco's being too dick-ish. I've read way to many Dramione stories where Draco's tortured but sweet (i.e. every girls' dream guy). It's ruined the character a bit for me since, in the books, he really is a giant douche pretty much the entire time.
> 
> Also, since I've decided that Luna is a poet (why not?), I may want to include one of her original creations. However, I'm a terrible poet. If you're not, write a Luna-poem and send it to me. I'll include it in upcoming chapters and give you mad props. :)


	6. Chapter 6

  
“Rather simply. They’re etched into the stone. Just there, “ Lovegood said while  pointing at the thick column with rough edges. Draco rushed forward and crouched  down in front of the crude carving.   


_ “Lorcan and Lysander Malfoy I  _

_ llegitimus non Carborundum” _

  
Draco mouthed the words in an attempt to make them seem more real. Ever since he had received his wand over nine years ago, (Draco’s parents  had believed their son above tradition and had taken him for his wand “fitting” at a n early age) Draco had been studying Latin. One of his most prized possessions was an  extremely old, leather-bound secondary school Latin textbook. Often, when he was  alone in his dorm room (something that had been a rarity before he took the Mark and everything went to hell) he would flip through the tome, each page almost  memorized. He had stolen the book from a London shop the very same afternoon he  had received his wand, after ducking his parents, who would never have approved. The young wizard had dreamed of the greatness of Merlyn or even his celebrated  grandfather and had wanted to study the language from which most spells were  derived. He attributed his easy ability to learn incantations to his knowledge of the  near-dead tongue. He believed the muggle book had been enough to put him towards the top of  his class, but that hardly made him fluent in language. However, despite an  elementary education, Draco knew enough to understand what his long-dead  relatives had been trying to say. “’Don't let the bastards get you down,’ that’s funny. You’re relatives are  funny, Malfoy, I never would have thought. You’re interior decorating certainly says  otherwise.” Lovegood bounced up and down on her cot, producing an unpleasant  squeaking sound that seemed to agree with her assessment of his family’s character. Draco was momentarily distracted from his shock at seeing remnants of the  infamous twins whose very names had been purged from the family genealogy, turned to look at his prisoner. “You know Latin?”   


  
“Mhmm,” the girl answered casually. “I mean, you’re fluent? You can speak it conversationally?” “Mhmm,” she paused a moment before elaborating. “My mother taught it to me when I was very little; we used to have whole conversations in Latin. She  thought that because the majority of our spells come from Latin, it must be like  elemental magic, it simply  is  power. That makes sense when you think about it. Even  when you do nonverbal magic, you still need to  _think_   the words, right? It’s so   difficult to do magic without the incantations, I’ve tried.  If you focus hard enough, you can feel the power of the words when the chains of sounds link together, it’s like  weaving fine threads of energy and when you complete the spell it’s just… beautiful. Ancient wizards spoke these words like it was normal speech. If wizards today  spoke  their magic and really  lived  it, we could be as enlightened and in tune with our  essences as the greatest wizards and witches like Merlyn or Circe. At least…that’s  what mum thought.” Lovegood’s rant touched Draco. Her sincerity and obvious love of magic so plain and honest.  _ Merlyn, if McGonagall could be even half as vivid or passionate as this  girl when she drones on about proportional transfigurations, I would actually be  _persuaded to pay attention in lecture._   _   


Something specific she had said sparked Draco’s interest. “So, learning Latin

and speaking it makes a wizard more powerful?”

  
“Well that’s not exactly what I said. You know something? I’ve often found  the most interesting and often catastrophic misunderstandings are caused glossing  over subtle differences. I do believe you’re about to misunderstand something  catastrophically.” Draco didn’t hear her; the brain under his white-blonde hair was whirring far  too loudly. He already knew some Latin and he bet that Lovegood could teach him  loads more while he was home. He was a quick study and it’s not like he had  anything else to do- lonely nights at school had given him ample time to finish his  break homework and he doubted that he’d be visiting any of his mates or fooling  around with Pansy, as he had in past years.   


“You can teach me Latin.”

“No.”

  
Draco nodded enthusiastically. “Of course you can! Aren’t you ‘Claws always  going on about how effing smart you are? And I’m no ‘Puff so I’ll pick it up with little  open-mouthed drooling or head-scratching.” At this point, he could never out-cast  his parents and Aunt Bella could best him in her sleep.  _But maybe_ ,  Draco’s inner  hopeful child insisted,  _ just maybe this could be enough for me to have the power to  _ _get my parent’s and me far from here and cloaked from the Dark Lord’s hounds_.   


  
“ I’m sure I could teach you a great deal, but I won’t- not can’t, mind you -will  not. Learning  the language is not enough. You could speak like the shamans of the  East and still be about as blocked as a jacksproot(1) under the full moon. Besides, there are so many interesting things in this cellar. I’ve been here less than an hour  and look what I’ve already discovered. “    


  
She pointed at the scratched letters on the  stone.  Her gesture returned Draco’s focus to the names. They were taboo in the  Malfoy household, though their lives were the worst kept secret in the family.  Lorcan and Lysander had been figures of myth to the young Draco- forbidden, dangerous, and shameful- yet also exciting . At this moment however, he wished for  the first time that he could have turned out like them instead of the dutiful  pureblood son, like he had been raised. He sighed.   


  
“How about I give you some extra blankets or food for the lessons? That’d be  fair enough, don’t you agree?” he asked reasonably and coaxingly.   


  
“No.” The young woman replied in a bored voice, but her roaming eyes  suddenly snapped to attention and peered into Draco’s. “Unless you agree to tell me  about your family.”   


  
“My family,” Draco said slowly before smiling wickedly. “Well, shall I start  with my mother then? She’s a right old cun—“   


  
“—I mean about  these  fellows. Lorcan and Lysander.”   


  
“They were  not  family.” “They have your last name.”   


  
Draco was stuck. His parents had only spoken of his two great-great-uncles a  few times, hating to talk about family shame, even if it occurred generations ago. Not  feeling anything towards his kin that wasn’t prickly at the moment, why should he  worry about Malfoy honor? Besides, he’d be  saving  his parents by learning all this little odd bird had to teach him.

  
“Deal.”  Lovegood nodded and spit in her hand, holding it out to her captor. Draco  rolled his eyes and reflected that just two years ago, he would have sneered at the  little freak who would have suggested that his word could have been secured over  shared salvia- disgusting and provincial by the way \- and a hand shake -he was a  Slytherin for Christ’s sake.  Perhaps the year of near isolation and loneliness made  him starved for any kind of human intimacy and maybe he was just becoming  honest,- doubtful-  but Draco repeated Lovegood’s action and expectorated into his  hand before shaking hers. It was a silent promise, and he did mean it.  Lovegood must have seen the honesty in his eyes (or felt it in his spit) because she gripped his palm tightly and said:   


“Deal.”

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Luna blinked her eyes repeatedly as her world grew less and less blurry in the dim light. For a moment she could have been waking up with the dawn, as she often would when the Mogwaiwere migrating.(3) Only when her sleeping mind focused on the room around her did she actually accept that she was undeniably still in the Malfoy dungeon.

Luna never had a good internal clock, or at least not one that seemed to match up with anyone else's external ones. She could always pop out of bed when on an expedition with her father, yet always struggled with other concepts like dinnertime. She ate when she was hungry and slept when she was tired. Luna had famously wandered into her first transfiguration class her second day at Hogwarts half an hour late. When Professor McGonagall had lectured her about being  _on time_ , Luna had inquired aloud: "Whose time?" Clearly her reputation had never recovered.

Upon waking, it was understandable then that Luna had no concept of what time it was, except that she was no longer tired. There were obviously no windows for sunlight to shine through. When Luna had no plans and nowhere to be; she paid o'clocks no particular mind, but here in the dank cellar's dim light, it only reminded her of her captivity.

_I may never see the sun again._ You-Know-Who might kill every person she had ever cared about and she might never live to hear the Snorkacks's mating song, but somehow it was this thought that depressed her most. At least, before the one that came after:  _Today is Christmas._

Luna had always loved Christmas. It was one of the more excitingly dangerous of holidays. Her she and her father would go to her uncle's house and reenact the battle between the Oak King and Holly King with wooden swords. After, she and her cousins would sit by the large bonfire, laughing and wearing their bruises like badges of honor.(1)

Before she could wallow in her poor circumstances a moment longer, the cellar door was opened. Whistling, Draco Malfoy entered with the same house elf Luna had met earlier. The little creature scurried behind her master, carrying a plate with a sandwich and a glass of water.

"Happy Christmas, Lovegood. Have a sandwich. Can't have my new prof sleeping on the job, can I?" He grinned at her with what Luna supposed was his patented Malfoy smile. Luna frowned back. He snatched the plate from Gerda, and handed it to her, continuing to smile at her encouragingly.  _He looks like the way mother would look at her test rats before transforming them into singing pocket watches._

"Thank you, Gerda. I'm sure it will be delicious," She said pointedly.

"No, that's alright-it's not like I had anything to do with it…you'd think you'd try and show a little more gratitude. All we agreed upon was that I'd tell you a few stories because you, I don't know, need them to sleep or something. Here I am going  _out of my way_  to see that your stay here is more comfortable—do you  _know_  what they usually feed our prisoners?"

"Oh,  _you_  made this sandwich, then?"

"No…Gerda did."

Luna took a bite and feigned deep thought while she chewed. "So you butchered the turkey and grew the lettuce?"

"No."

"You paid for it?"

"No."

"You carried it from your kitchen to the dungeon?" She looked at Gerda, knowingly.

Malfoy glared at Luna, and dismissed his elf. "Fine then, feast over. Let's begin already."

* * *

"Ok, a my bedtime story to start. Go ahead." The girl took another bite and crossed her legs under her, ready to listen.

"Fine. But then we spend the rest of the day like Romans. Never say I'm not a giver. What do you want to know?" _I'll give the little chit what she wants and then she'll be mine for the rest of the day._

Lovegood thought to herself a moment. "I suppose the spelling and etymology of their names are irrelevant." She paused again, "then that leaves everything else."

Draco sighed. "They were my ancestor Ramsay's children; twins born some multiple generations ago. They're a black mark on our family's history so you can imagine what I know about them doesn't come from my father being overly 'share-y.' What I know about them comes from research I did on my own."

Lovegood perked up at this "Why did you research them?"

"Well…" Draco stopped. He did have an answer, though not one he really wanted to share with a prisoner that would likely be tortured for information in the coming days by his mad aunt.  _I just wanted to know because my father didn't want me to know. And the more I found out, the more I_ _ **had**_   _to know._ The novelty of it all had been so fascinating. How many Malfoys, even half-Malfoys, had ever gone against their pureblood traditions?  _None, that's how many. It's not like I agreed with them, or anything…it's just they were so different._ "I guess I just thirst for knowledge," he quipped, "I must have been mis-sorted."

"What did they do to deserve being kept in your dungeon?"

"I should think the fact that they  _existed_  would have been enough to earn them a spot in the dungeon. As I understand it, they spend the majority of their childhoods down here." Lovegood looked horrified by that last bit which made Draco smirk. He continued, "They were not real Malfoys you see. Ramsay Malfoy was married to some Selwyn bint but apparently had…other interests. His marriage had been an arranged one and there must have been little affection between the two because he fathered Lorcan and Lysander off of his mistress."

"So he locked his sons in the basement?" Lovegood asked incredulously.

"Ah well, you see the mother had been a muggle." Draco thought this had explained everything but the girl still looked confused so he continued: "In those days, that was enough to give a man to the dementors. Ramsay probably escaped by still doing his Malfoy duty. He had four other children by his wife. It was she that made the twins live down here."

"That's sad, that he couldn't be with the woman he loved."

"Don't be so naïve, Lovegood. I never said he loved the muggle, he just knocked her up. It could have been a one-off for all I know- it was three centuries ago. She certainly didn't stick around much since Lorcan and Lysander moved into the estate when they were seven, according to the records."

"What records? Family records?"

Draco was annoyed. He usually didn't suffer so many questions.  _Though Crabbe and Goyle would probably break themselves trying to form an intelligent question, let alone process the answer._ "I assure you that any family record of the twins have been destroyed. I mean, general history records. They were quite famous in their day. You probably never heard of them because a few generations ago, there was a Malfoy headmaster who made it his mission to remove mention of them from the curriculum as well as the student's library."

"The harder you try to suppress the truth, the more inevitable it is that it will find a way to come out.(2) There is no greater crime than standing in the way of the pursuit of knowledge," Lovegood said with venom Draco had not known she possessed. He liked her better with a bit of bite.  _Her usual spacey tone got old quickly._

"Well if 'inevitable' means 150 years later in a cellar with only you to hear it: then sure, the truth always finds away," He said with a laugh. "And for that last bit, typical Ravenclaw meaningless drivel. You birds spend so much time memorizing facts rather than experiencing anything yourselves. Trust me, there are far worst things you can do to a person."

"So long as you and I know the truth, it still matters and lives on." She said as if that made it final. Draco went back to being annoyed with the girl.

"That's a riot. How much longer do you figure you have left live to carry the torch of truth _?"_  He spat. As soon as he said it, he regretted it. The atmosphere in the dungeon changed dramatically.  _Still dark and dank, but decidedly_ _ **colder.**_  Although he wouldn't call their recent exchanges friendly, they had at least maintained civil, never really mentioning the fact that she would probably be murdered in this very room. Not only did Draco know it was a bad idea to piss off the girl when he needed something from her, but he had generally looked forward to today's lesson.  _She was a break in the monotony, a break in the solitude._

"Not long," she replied quietly and said nothing else. Draco was unnerved at the way she kept staring at him.  _It's not like I have a long and bright future ahead of me either. The Dark Lord is as likely to snuff me out the next time he sees me as he is to kill this blood traitor._ It was then he remembered that the whole reason he was down here was to find a way to stop the Dark Lord and save himself and his family.  _Hell, maybe I'll save this unfortunate too while I'm at it— Enough of this sharing of souls, we have work to do._

"Be that as it may, we had a deal. I held up my end, now get with the teaching." Lovegood nodded.

"Ok then." The roomed seem to warm a little, then.

 

 

 

 

 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) I think at some point Luna makes some reference to it just being her and her dad in the family. Or maybe the line is "I still have dad" or some such. I dont have my 5th book with me in my dorm. Anyway, if there was any sort of allusion to Luna and her Dad being the only ones in her family, ignored it. The Oak and Holly Kings is an actual pagan belief and the story is celebrated during Yule. For further reading. .
> 
> (2) this is a quote by some lady. I forget who. terrible citing- There's a reason I'm not an English major.
> 
> (3) Mogwai: the cute creatures from the gremlins movie! google it!
> 
> Review!


	8. Chapter 8

Draco woke up early the next day and trudged into the manse's large library. Lovegood had been true to her word, she had instructed him late into the night. There obviously had been no way to tell what time of day it was in the dungeon and Draco had been too engrossed in what they were doing to glance at his watch. He had been half way through translating some of the mid-level passages in his old textbook when he heard the girl snore softly. She had curled up on the edge of the cot with the tips of her toes touching Draco's outer thigh. Scowling, he had been about to shake her awake until he noticed how late it had gotten. He had doubted that even Professor Binns could have taught for that long without a break.

He had somehow gotten off the creaky cot without waking her, but right after he noxed the light he heard the familiar squeak, announcing that Lovegood had woken up. Her voice had come through the darkness, "Will you come back tomorrow?"

"Yeah, Lovegood, bright and early." He had been confused. As far as he had been concerned, their agreement was as good as a contract witnessed by a Gringotts goblin. Draco had basically  _bought_  her time and brain, as zany as it was, and he intended to get what he purchased.  _The Malfoy name may be synonymous with a lot of things, but poor businessmen are not one of them. "_ We had a deal, remember?"

"Yes," she had said in the darkness. "But, doesn't your name mean 'bad faith?'"

There had been a length of silence before Draco had calmed down enough to answer. "As you say; you're the scholar and I am but the pupil. I'll be whatever you mold me to be." He had turned on the spot and stomped out the door without replying to Lovegood's 'goodnight.'"

He had almost decided to live up to her expectation by blowing off the next day's lesson.  _Who was_ she _to make assumptions about_ me? _I should have asked if Looney meant that she was bat-shit out of her mind._ He had decided that he wouldn't give the 'claw another reason to preen her know-it-all feathers. He'd keep up his end of the deal, and then some.

It was this spite-driven declaration that drove Draco to shuffle through the dusty volumes in the early hours of Boxing Day. All of the family house elves were in the kitchen preparing breakfast for his slumbering family- _No doubt exhausted from the holiday merriment from the night before-_ so he was undisturbed by the usual scurrying and shuffling that seemed to be the standard background noise of every upper-class wizard household.  _We should really find out how Dumbledore trained the Hogwarts elves to be so bloody inconspicuous. If the Dark Lord has his way, 'superb elf taming' will be the only thing that barmy old codger will be remembered for._

This thought brought him back to what Lovegood had been going on about yesterday before they had begun their lessons. Draco hadn't exactly lied when he said the Malfoys had made it their business to destroy any recorded histories of Lorcan and Lysander. Luckily and maddeningly, that didn't mean none was to be found. Lucky, because Draco had been obsessed with the twins since he was young, and maddening, because it proved that Lovegood had been right.

Besides breeding, Draco had always believed that pureblood marriages were arranged so that the massive amounts of ancient artifacts and dusty furniture stayed within the elite families. This meant that every few decades or so, a new batch of purebloods married each other, and family heirlooms were shipped from family mansion to family mansion as part of the marriage agreements. This meant that priceless objects that had been in the Malfoy family for generations had also been in the Nott, Crabbe, Selwyn, Lestrange, and Greengrass (etc) families. Some of his mother's contribution to the estate had been hundreds of books that no doubt had belonged to the Blacks, the Prewetts and perhaps even the Longbottoms for a generation or two. Therefore, it was through the  _Black_ line that the lives of Lorcan and Lysander lived on.

"Yes! Got it!" Draco reached to pull down an old, beat up text from the top of one of the back shelves in the library. A similar scene had taken place five years earlier when he had needed  _An Account of the 14_ _th_ _Century Giant Wars as Documented by Murgle the Wergle_ for a summer History of Magic assignment. And, just as it did five years ago, a small black book fell out of the larger volume and bonked him on the head. Draco smiled.  _Still here. It's lucky father never needed to quick reference Murgle's in depth retelling of the 3 years she spent hiding in her basement threading "No Giants Need Apply" into needle-point squares._

He shoved the old text back in between the two books that had been next to it, causing the volume to admit a small cry of protest. Many of the books reacted similarly to being put back on a shelf so abruptly after being taken down.  _It's probably because some of them haven't been read in over two hundred years- the neglect is getting to them._ Draco hopped off the ladder and made his way to one of the black leather sofas in the center of the room and opened to the first page of his prize.

_The Journal of Radagast Black_

_Beware Trespassers_

If there had been spells on the book that warded against nosy readers, they had warn off over time or Draco had yet to trip them. He flipped to one of the entries he was looking for:

* * *

_September 1_ _st_ _,_

_I can't even believe it; it's too terrible to be true. I **should**  be writing a letter to my parents to tell them about my acceptance into Slytherin as I scribble in this journal. This is something I just couldn't bring myself to do while surrounded by all of this…_ **blue.** _That's right,_   _Radagast Agrippa Black(1), youngest son of Martha and Jervis Black, was damned to spend the next seven years as a member of Ravenclaw House. I looked like such a fool sitting under that sodding old hat after it barked out my fate. I couldn't even stand and walk until Professor McManus shoved me toward the table. And if I looked ridiculous, it was nothing compared to the faces of my brothers and sister sitting at the CORRECT table under the green and silver banners. I can only hope that their shared mortification is enough to prevent them from writing home to our parents until the morning. At least then I could hope to expire in my sleep before the morning owl delivery._

 _As if sleeping in the same room with a mudblood wasn't bad enough (one of my suite mates announced to our table that he was the son of a fish merchant for god's sake), those two abominations that were sorted with me_ **spoke** _to me_   _like we were_ **family.** _Although a true Ravenclaw would argue that technically we are cousins, the assuredly dormant Slytherin in me knows that just because they are the result of my uncle's indiscretion and are comically going by the name "Malfoy," Lorcan and Lysander will never be family._

_I will attempt to transcribe the event as I best remember it:_

_After Headmaster declared our feast over (I had eaten nothing, too afraid that my stomach would reject all food as my mind was desperately trying to reject reality), I slipped away from my new housemates so that I could mope or off-myself in solitude. While wandering in no particular direction (I always carry around a copy of Hogwarts: A History so that I may never be completely lost—Although there are some major discrepancies in some of the maps…*Aside:Maybe it is my tendency towards "bookishness" that tipped the balance and put me in Ravenclaw? I will have to think this possibility over at a later date*)_

_Where was I? Oh, yes. I was wandering and drowning in my own misfortune when I heard my name, or rather a perversion of my name, called from behind._

" _Hey, Rad! It is Rad, right?"_

_Stunned and annoyed, I answered, "My name is Radagast."_

" _Right," the other, whose lengthy silver hair seemed to glow faintly in the moonlight, responded: "Rad. Shouldn't you be off with your house?"_

" _Excuse me," I cleverly interjected, " but you seem to be just as mis-located as myself. To which house were you sorted?" I had been far too upset during the feast to listen to the other sortings.  
_

" _That's true. It's good to know cousins stick together in this place." I almost spat at the other twin, whose cropped hair was dark and curly and cheeks round and smiling. "We're in Hufflepuff, but that shouldn't mean we can't still foster that family affection, should it?" He smirked mockingly and put out his hand for me to shake and introduced himself "Lorcan."_

_I was too pleased to hex him. "Ha, that IS a riot. And I thought I had it bad in Ravenclaw. But you two in Hufflepuff? My family will likely disown me, but maybe the opportunity to erase you will thrill your clan beyond measure. Uncle Ramsay may even throw a party._

_That_ **bastard** _Lysander simply nodded knowingly. "I see you had been shooting for Slytherin as well. After seeing how sick you looked at being sorted into Ravenclaw, it was so hard to argue with the Sorting Hat's inclination to put us with the snakes. After all, it seems rather cruel to toss away an opportunity that some one else had been so broken up about not getting." More smiling.  
_

_I didn't know what to make of this. The Hat had_ **wanted**   _to put them in Slytherin and they said_ **no?**   _If that were possible I would have shouted my refusal from the Astronomy Tower. "What do you mean? You_ **asked** _to be sorted into Hufflepuff?"_

" _More like politely demanded but, yes." Now Lysander had the same grin on his face as his brother._

" _Bloody Hell! Why?"_

" _Because, cousin, what would it be to be another Malfoy amongst the hundreds that have been sorted into Slytherin House? Our talents would be wasted there, or at the very least eclipsed by those of our ancestors. Who could we hope to be in the shadow of Bevan Malfoy, who trained his hippogriffs to attack muggle pilgrims that came within 500 yards of the Manor? Who are we compared to Lucretia Malfoy, who became Mistress of Magic after having her opponents kidnapped and stuffed into sacks? No, we decided once we got our letters that we'd simply have to strike out on our own and give some glory to Hufflepuff house, which is definitely due for some. Plus, as you mentioned, there is the appeal of being disowned to consider…"_

_Their thought process was so decidedly demented and well..Slytherin, that I couldn't stand it. Lorcan continued and made it all worse, "But don't worry, cos, Slytherin wouldn't have been all that great anyway. Imagine living your whole life based on what's expected of you like our dear half-siblings. Makes for very boring conversation at the very least. Be happy you escaped it based on merit and not sheer stubbornness like us." He paused, "Yes, I definitely like you, Rad. We'll have to make it a point to see more of you. We have eleven years to catch up on after all. Be seeing you, cousin."_

_They walked away and down some stairs while I trudged up to our tower. There you have it. As my housemates party downstairs at the start of term festivities, I get to sit here in my own misery, waiting for my half-blood Hufflepuff insane cousins to drop by for a_ **play date.** _If I am alive tomorrow, by ill design of fate or because my siblings decided not to honor-kill me, I will write again._

* * *

Draco was about to flip to another entry( he needed more information to exchange for a whole day of lessons) when his aunt burst through the double doors of the library. She apparently didn't notice him because she picked up the nearest statue on a table and threw it against the stone wall.

"IF THAT BASTARD THINKS HE CAN SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT—"

"Something wrong, Aunt?" Draco closed the diary and slipped it into his robes. He didn't want to waste too much time provoking her, as fun as it could be.  _The Christmas detente is definitely over._

"Your bloody uncle dropped off one of the prisoners today and declared he would be staying here for a few days until he 'determined we could handle the extra responsibility.' She spat out, shaking with rage. "And  _then_  he offered to interrogate the Lovegood chit because he  _imagined_  that I would find it too taxing."

Draco panicked. He knew all too well how his Aunt liked to interrogate blood traitors and she certainly never found it 'taxing.' "What could you possibly get from that girl? I know that the Order is naturally at a loss without Dumbledore but I doubt they've resorted to relying a sixteen-year-old girl or her crazy father." He was trying not to sound too interested.

"She is among those responsible for putting your father in prison and for bringing down the Dark Lord's righteous wrath upon my head." She shuttered momentarily.  _Merlin only knows what his 'righteous wrath' entailed._ Draco felt a moment of pity for his Aunt, but an even longer one for Lovegood as Bellatrix stormed out of the library and presumably to the cellar.

 _Whatever anger she felt toward Rodolphus is about to be directed right at Lovegood._ Draco sat there, gripping the stone in one pocket and the book in the other and fighting with himself.  _It isn't likely that she'd kill her. She's supposed to keep the prisoners alive for the Dark Lord to deal with._ Draco thought that perhaps to die by the hand of his out of control Aunt would be better than to suffer under the cool calculations of the Dark Lord…maybe. There were, however, his lessons to think of and what good would she be if his Aunt ruined her? An image of Lovegood screaming under the cruciatus curse filled his head. Draco got up with his wand out and ran toward the dungeons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N What did you think? I'm kind of liking this Radagast fellow. He's so clearly a Ravenclaw that I could die.
> 
> (1) Radagast is the name of the wizard in Lord of the Rings and other Tolkien works that is known as Radagast the Brown. I just picked him as a name because I thought it'd be funny if the character was Brown Black.
> 
> Coming up: more on L&L&RAD and why they're so awesome. Plus, BellaXLunaXDraco show down.
> 
> Also, does anyone know how long their Christmas break is? Draco has to go back to school eventually.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Years later, this rabbit stopped being dead and updated her story. Except, I'm not sure how happy I am with this one. Luna came out OOC and I'm not sure what to do about it. Let me know what you think.

Luna Lovegood opened her eyes on another dark day in her own private dungeon. She stretched and yawned while her first waking thoughts wandered to Draco. Where was he?  _He had said he'd be here bright and early, I guess it must be neither._  However, Luna felt well rested and knew that she had slept for a decent amount of time, so it had to be after sunrise. _Is it possible that he came down here and decided not to disturb me while I slept? Perhaps I should tell him that it's okay to wake me up for our lessons. After all, I probably don't have that many days left before…Well, I don't want to waste my time sleeping._

But then Luna remembered that Draco was a Slytherin right down to his socks. She doubted that he'd respect her slumber anymore than he'd expand his color pallet beyond dreary green and silver.  _If he's so proud of his sort, then why did he seem so offended when I suggested that he could renege on our deal? I'm nothing to him and any promise made to me should be worth even less._ Luna thought that her father would be proud of her if he could see her now. She just couldn't stop her Ravenclaw brain from asking questions and attacking them at every angle. But then, Ravenclaw or no, why did she want to spend her last days picking apart the actions and motives of a clearly emotionally disturbed (former?) enemy anyway? Any sane person would probably rather be sleeping.

Luna snorted. If that was what sane was, then they could keep it. After stretching her limbs until she heard a satisfying crack, Luna began to clean up the crumbs and dishes from last night. No doubt Gerda or one of the other Malfoy house elves would eventually come to collect the plates and Luna wanted to make it easier for them. Chores done, she began running her fingers through her long hair, detangling the stubborn knots and snarls that had made a home on her head since she had been taken.

As her nails pleasantly scraped her scalp, Luna was taken back to the last time that particular sensation had made her tingle all over her body. It had been last winter holiday, and the hand that had stroked her so sweetly had belonged to a muggle boy.  _Gareth, with the light eyes and pointy ears._ Luna kept running her hands through her hair as she fell into her own memory.

* * *

_He had just enough muggle money to buy us both an ice cream, even though it was winter and I suggested we just eat some snow. He had laughed, and not in the way that everyone laughs at what I say, and insisted on it just because I told him how much I liked sweets._ The cold in the dungeon was perfect for drawing her into that blustery day almost a year before. Her father had asked her to pop into the nearby town to pick up something (something that was completely forgotten after she had met Gareth), so she had trudged down to Ottery St. Catchpole in her furry boots that made it appear that she was wearing a pair of extra fluffy nifflers.

By the time she had reached the small hamlet, her cheeks were flushed and her hair had an impressive dusting of snow on it. Cold and committed to blending in with her muggle neighbors, Luna opted to duck into a small café instead of using a subtle warming charm. She ordered a tea and paid with the odd paper money her father had given her and sat at a small table for two. With one boot on the chair opposite her and the other one swinging back and forth, Luna glanced around the small room. She loved coming into the muggle town. It was interesting how different and separate she felt from them as they went about their magic-less day, yet they barely seemed to pay her more than a passing glance. The contrast to how she was treated in the wizarding-world was jarring. She never felt strange compared to her fellow wizards until her classmates pointed her apparent oddities out (which they seemed to do whenever Luna  _blinked)._  Yet here, where she felt right to burst out of her own skin from the pressure of keeping her secret around so many muggles, people smiled at her and acted like she was  _one of them. The woman on the counter had even said my boots were "class," which I had thought sounded like a good thing._

There were two old men playing chess by the door. They still wore their heavy coats even though it was pleasantly warm in the café. Muggles didn't use violent moving pieces, though Luna thought that the men seemed to be enjoying themselves. The only other patron was a boy that looked to be Luna's age or a bit older. He was bent over his table at an extreme angle with his long nose practically touching the sketchpad he appeared to be drawing on. His mop of shaggy chestnut hair fell over his face and eyes but revealed extremely pointy ears, one of which had a silver ring through the top.

Luna immediately thought that he might be a lythari and wondered why he had come down from the mountains of the southern Asia to sit in an unremarkable café in Northern England. The spirit of Rowena Ravenclaw immediately possessed her as she simultaneously scanned the room for hidden magic and plotted how to best ask the creature to morph into his wolf-form so that she could study him.

She continued to stare at the boy and look for more evidence that he wasn't human. He was dressed in muggle jeans and a green baggy jumper that seemed to hide a fit frame.  _I had thought that running through the wilderness on all fours explained his athletic appearance._ Luna kept looking at and assessing every inch of him she could see. Unfortunately, while thorough, she was never very inconspicuous when engrossed in studying a subject. Therefore some time passed before she had noticed the boy was staring right back at her.

Luna's first thought had been one of disappointment. Lythari, in their numerous sightings, were all reported to have dark purple eyes (which was how you could tell that they weren't normal wolves). This boy clearly had light grey eyes and was probably just an average muggle. Her next thought, though, had been one of embarrassment. One of the many things she was teased about at school was her habit to stare at people. Though it never usually bothered her when people would gape at something she would do, other people seemed to find it unnerving and strange. The boy didn't look unnerved, however. In fact he was smiling broadly. This was a great deal worse for Luna and her cheeks flushed red-hot. She much preferred people feeling uncomfortable around her than when they laughed.  _I thought I had lost the pleasure of muggle company forever. I thought someone had finally discovered I was not just magic, but also considered a freak by my own kind._

Even when walking from her house to the main street of the town in the snow, Luna had never wished she could apparate as badly as she did at that moment. When the boy had gotten up with his sketchpad in hand and walked toward her, she had almost decided that the muggle form of quick transportation (leaping up and running as fast as she could) would suit her needs just fine.

"You know, I should thank you. Usually it's hard to get anyone to sit for a long period of time while I sketch them." He pulled out the chair from under Luna's leg and sat down.

"Excuse me?" He handed Luna the pad he had been working on. On the top sheet was a fairly accurate portrait of her as she sat holding a cup of tea.

"I don't know if I got the eyes  _quite_ right. They have this cloudy quality to them and my pencil doesn't do them justice." Luna didn't know what to say so the boy continued. "They're also very pretty, which explains why I was so interested in  _you_ , but why were you so interested in me? Unless I was mistaken and you were actually trying to look  _through_  my body at the wall behind me. In which case I'm sorry I got in your way." He sat back took a sip of his tea and then looked around the café, as if he didn't expect her to respond.

"I thought you were a magical creature." She said plainly. "You're not."

"Well neither are you, but I think I like you anyway." Luna smiled then because he thought he technically might be right.

"My name is Luna."

"Gareth. You know, I lived here my whole life and I've never seen you before. Do you go to school here?"

_It had been so easy to talk to him. I never have trouble talking to people, it usually seems like they have trouble talking to me. Not Gareth, though. Hours went by before I realized the sun was down and Daddy would have been expecting me back for dinner._

They got up from the table and said goodbye to the nice waitress who hadn't minded them holding up in her café for the entire day.

"I have to be getting back to my house. I go back to school tomorrow and I've barely packed."

"You're  _leaving_  already? At least let me walk you home. Maybe that will give me enough time to work up the nerve to ask you for your number." He ran his hands through his hair and certainly looked nervous.

Luna didn't know what he meant by "number" but she couldn't let him walk her home. If she did, then she'd want to invite him to dinner and there was no way she could bare lying to him any more than she already had.

"No…it's getting rather late and there may be nargl…I mean, no. No thanks."

"Well can I call you then?"

"On the…telarfone?"

He paused. "Er, yeah. Unless you want me to scream your name throughout the town when I want to see you, which could be very often."

"That might be best."

"You'll make me a pariah." But he hadn't looked like he minded the idea.

It was in that moment that Luna kissed him. It was just a quick brush of the lips but for the second time that day, time stood still. As soon as he parted he pulled her closer and held her. His fingers ran through her long hair a little roughly and she sighed. "Please say you'll see me again, Luna."

"I have to go away for a little while, but I'll be back. Call for me in a few months."

And he had. When Luna came home at the end of term after Headmaster Dumbledore's death, she had taken to making trips into town alone to clear her head. One warm night she passed "their" café and heard her name being shouted. They ended up spending the best moments of the summer together. It was with him that she found comfort from the loss of Dumbledore and inevitable losses and death that she that knew she was likely to face in the coming months. It made parting with him all the more painful at summer's end. And although she proved she was able to endure a great deal under the Carrows, thoughts of seeing Gareth that winter had kept her spirits up. He had even offered to meet her at Kings Cross when she got back. _I hope he won't wait too long for me…_

* * *

"Poor ickle girly, and here I thought you were getting too comfortable down here. But here you are  _crying._ I think you're being rather  _ungrateful_ for all our hospitality. I'll have to have a chat with Gerda about it…but first we need to start arranging how exactly you'll be paying your way during your rather brief stay here." Bellatrix whipped her wand in a large arc faster than Luna's eye could fallow. Before she knew what was happening she was flying across the room, her head breaking her fall against the hard ground. "WHERE IS HARRY POTTER?" Luna couldn't answer. There was an instant of pain and then darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Luna decided to take over the whole chapter, she's really unreasonable. I'm thinking Bellatrix deserves her own POV chapter and she may be insisting. Would you be interested in reading about our favorite princess of darkness(crazy)?


	10. Chapter 10

Draco sprinted through the long halls of Malfoy manor. The library was in the west wing of the manse and quite a distance away from the cellar stairs, but Draco didn't notice his ragged breath or the sweat running down his neck. His beating heart, however, he did feel, and it was fueled by his own increasing dread.  _Bellatrix has a three-minute head start on me._ Draco imagined what his aunt could do to a wand-less person in only three minutes. He ran faster.

He leapt down the grand staircase 5 steps at a time. Every time his foot made contact with the ground, he added another second of agony to his image of Luna under the  _Cruciatus_ curse. Vaulting over the marble table in the parlor, Draco stumbled over his robes for a moment but kept running toward the cellar door. He flung it open and hurled himself down the dark stone steps.

In his mad dash he never considered how exactly he would stop Bellatrix from doing whatever she pleased to the girl. She was as powerful as she was crazy and both traits earned her the top spot at the Dark Lord's side. Ability wise, she could probably only be bested by Lucius and only on his best day.

Draco had been about to tear open the door to Luna's dungeon, but the thought of his father stilled him as he gripped the iron handle.  _He_ had  _been the most powerful Death Eater, before Lovegood and Potter ruined him. The past year, the worst and possible last of my whole life, would never have happened if it wasn't for that freak._ His hand slipped off the door and he stepped back toward the stairs that he had been so willing to leap down only moments earlier.  _Fuck her then; she's a dead girl anyway._

As he turned to climb back up to the main floor, he heard a blood-curdling scream from the cellar room. Draco barely noticed the stone glow hot in his pocket because, before he could open the door to the dungeon, it blasted off its hinges. Without stopping to wonder at the incredible wand-less magic he had just preformed, Draco ran into the dungeon.

What he found was shocking but far less than the worst that he had imagined. Luna was hanging upside-down from the low ceiling with her long hair skimming the stone floor. As Bellatrix- _The crazy bitch didn't even notice the fucking door blast away-_  shrieking about blood traitors and sharply jerked her wand back, clumps of Luna's hair were ripped out of her head and fell to the ground. The girl screamed again.

Draco had to think and act quickly. He silently cast a levitation charm to keep Luna in the air. Bellatrix must have sensed the magical disturbance because she turned around to face her nephew.

"Yes? Draco, you're interrupting our little girl chat." She laughed maniacally. "I'm offering my best hair styling lessons in exchange for a _little bit_  of gossip about where our favorite teen wizard heartthrob is hiding." As he listened to his aunt speak, Draco's mind was whirling.  _What was the extent of my plan exactly? Barge in here like a hero and politely as her to stop torturing my….friend? Definitely need a less ludicrous approach._ _ **I**_ _don't even believe it._

"Is that what you were doing? Funny, I thought you were just shaking out the fleas." He sneered at Luna. "Still, I'd have thought you'd have a little more finesse than this. It's really rather boring."

"I'm not doing this to entertain myself, boy. I am fulfilling my constant service to the Dark Lord."

"Yes,  _exactly_  as Uncle Rodolphus would have gone about it."

She glared at him, "What do you mean?"

Well it seems to be a common train amongst Death Eaters, you know? They display their uncanny abilities to mindlessly maim or torture without art or subterfuge and then look to the Dark Lord for a pat on the head and a biscuit. Like they had actually DONE something worthy of their blood status or Slytherin house, when really, they've proven themselves less tactical than a rampaging hippogriff." Draco could have sworn he saw Luna smile at this comment out of the corner of his eye.

Bellatrix seemed to consider this for a moment. "Well, then what do you suggest?"

"The Dark Lord should look at our family and see both our purity and our cunning. Yes, mistakes were made, but only because we are willing to take the risks that the others are to stupid to even realize might pay off. Now, listen: every sycophantic follower of our Lord is scurrying around looking for Potter, so it's only a matter of time before one of them stumbles upon him, most likely by accident. I say:  _Let them._

"ARE YOU INSANE? Whoever finds Potter will rise to the Dark Lord's right hand! Exalted above all—"

"Yes yes, for a  _time._ That Death Eater will smugly brag to the rest of us that only he or she was  _clever_  and  _loyal_ enough to find Potter, and we will suffer it. Do you know why? Because the Dark Lord knows all and will tire of the boastful idiot quickly. How long will he want a pretender touting about how he succeeded where the Dark Lord failed?" Bellatrix gasped sharply, but Draco ignored her and flicked his wand towards Luna while yelling, "stupefy". However, while  _speaking_ the stunning spell, he focused his magic, not through his wand, but towards the Abraxas Stone in his pocket. By channeling his magic through the stone, he was able to cast a  _placidio(1)_ and a  _caecarsus_ (2)spell simultaneously while producing impotent red light out of his wand.  _There, I hope Luna has the sense to keep silent on her own._ She did.

"So we won't have to worry about wiping her mind later. Now, as I was saying, Potter is a distraction, nothing more. The true war will be fought amongst all the wizarding families in the _world._  Instead of handing him a boy, we should be working to give him the Patil's, the Li's, and the Vulchanov's. He needs followers for his new world order. We can give him those."

"And you think this girl is the key to the wizarding world?" She snorted.

"I don't see how balding a possible source of information is the key to anything but your temper tantrum. Really aunt, emotional out bursts have no place in the workplace." Before she could scream and rend her clothing, he continued, "She comes from a pure blood family with international contacts, as ridiculous as they might be. For instance, do you know that the heir to the Chinese Wu clan is obsessed with her father's ridiculous magazine? Or that she and Lovegood went traipsing around the woods looking for some made-up creature with the French Minster of Magic? She has  _use_ , aunt. We will get information out of her and sew the seeds of the Dark Lord's power and ideals all over the world. By the time he conquers England, it will be  _our family_  that can practically hand him all the great magical nations, and we'll do it with out harming a hair on a single pureblood's head. The Dark Lord will reward us above all others. So yes, this  _girl_  is the key to our redemption. We need her cooperation." He finished and waited for his aunt's reaction.

At first she just looked at him, processing everything that he had suggested. "Fine then, I suppose she'll be a start. We'll convince her of the Dark Lord's power and right to rule, and we'll use her connections. Good. Wake her up." He panicked for a moment, he had made all of that shite up on the fly, he wasn't prepared to actually execute any sort of plan of world domination.

"Not just yet, she'll hardly be of any use in her currant state." Draco noticed that a bit of blood had begun to drip from Luna's scalp onto the floor. "I'll patch her up and have Gerda clean up this mess. You should probably discuss our strategy with Mother and Father." Draco thought he was being a bit heavy handed, but Bellatrix nodded distractedly and shuffled out of the room.  _No doubt she is lost in her own fantasy of the Dark Lord praising her vast intelligence and initiative in a private bedroom somewhere._

He shook his head in disgust before turning to the motionless girl hanging from the ceiling. He levitated her over to the cot before lifting the spells that kept her still and blind. Before she could open her eyes, he  _scourgified_ the floor of all her blood and hair so it wouldn't upset her. When he walked over to her she was already sitting up with he arms curled around her. She looked at him for a moment, and then burst in to tears.

"I do not have fleas!" She screamed at him. Draco was so taken a back by that sudden outburst that he couldn't even find it in him to laugh at how absurd it was.  _My aunt tortures her and she's more pissed at me for a stupid comment I didn't even mean. Funny old world, isn't it?_

Luna kept shouting and her tears quickly evolved into a sob. "I wouldn't help you find Harry and I certainly won't help you convert the masses to your  _cause._ You're disgusting and  _evil_ and I  _hate_  you _."_ More blood began to slowly trickle down her face as she yelled and cried.

Draco felt no sting in her words, so concerned was he with patching her up. "Yes well, we'll deal with that all later. For now, hold still. I never was particularly adept at healing charms and I don't want to blast off an ear." He placed a hand on her shoulder, meant to keep her still but also to comfort. Mumbling an incantation, he saw her wounds heal up and the blood stop flowing.

"There, good as knew. Pomfrey would be proud. Er… being a bloke, I never bothered to learn any of those hair extension spells so there's not much I can do about your new look, sorry." Draco was trying to cheer her, to no avail. He meant to step back when he reached her own arm around his back and buried her face in his stomach. She was still crying, but softer than before. He placed his other hand on her head where the bald pink skin was most evident and stroked her soothingly. He did his best to keep back his own tears.  _I'm just as frightened as she is, and no one has tortured me in weeks._

They remained entwined like that for several minutes, both clutching each other to keep from falling a part. Luna was the first to pull away. With puffy eyes and a teary face, she was able to smiley weakly. "Thank you for saving me, and I'm sorry I ruined your robe."

Draco looked as his stomach in wonder. Indeed the product of her sobs was smeared all over his expensive fabric. "It's ok, Gerda will be able to clean it." She frowned at him and he couldn't help but smile. "Fine, fine. I'll toss it away instead, happy?" They both laughed at the absurdity.  _As if either of us could ever be happy again. What's a little snot between doomed prisoners?_

"I'll pay you for it with another lesson, a double period."

Draco groaned. Latin class was just about the last thing he wanted to do right now; his hands were still shaking from the stress of the last 20 minutes.  _Besides, Professor Lovegood looks like she could collapse at any instant._ "How about I tell  _you_ a story about your favorite twins and an adventure they took with their young Ravenclaw cousin?"

"They had a cousin in Ravenclaw? Was he extremely bright?" She moved over on the small cot so that he could sit down.

"Oh yes. As well as arrogant and socially inept, like all you know-it-alls."

"Sounds positively interesting. Go on then."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) latin for still/unmoving
> 
> 2) latin for blind
> 
> A/N this chapter was rough. Legit had to make it up as I went along, which is frustrating. I think it came out ok, even if Draco squirmed a little ooc. I hope you didn't think I'd actually let him not save our heroine! I tried to make him very Slytherin with the quick plotting, but I think the real Draco would make ANYONE who snotted up his clothes lick them clean, just saying. Next chapter seems like it may be a lighthearted one, for the most part :). Let me know what you think!
> 
> OH, and the reason I chose Luna's particular form of torture is because I'm vain about my hair and it just freaked me out. I hope you were as disturbed as me.


	11. Chapter 11

_September 10th_

_I have completed my first academic week at Hogwarts. The curriculum here has proven enjoyable if not entirely challenging. The professors seem to be knowledgeable at least and I know that I've stunned a few with my thoughtful and clearly advanced questions…._

_I must be honest here on this page, which I admittedly have not been from the start of this entry. After all, I am recording my feelings and activities here at Hogwarts in order to better my own memory and not to dazzle the imaginary readers of these papers. Who benefits from my recordings of academic heroism instead of what is really plaguing my mind? Certainly not me._

_The truth is that I have received no correspondence from my parents after my ill-fated sorting. At first I carried around the irrational hope that they had taken my sort in to Slytherin for granted and decided immediate congratulations of the inevitable was unnecessary. However, as the week wore on with no word from any member of my family, I knew it to be a fool's hope. When both my siblings were awarded their green and silver patches, they were shipped a large care package of treats accompanied by a long letter from my father expounding on their duties to our family and the great legacy of Slytherin house. No such package has come._

_The only correct assumption is that my parents have decided to ignore my existence entirely. I have no plans on accepting this. Unlike my brother and sister, duty to family and house has never needed to be lectured to me. Days ago I decided that I would live up to my blood and Slytherin values and make my parents acknowledge my loyalty and success…the result of my plots were mixed at best._

_Wednesday in potions lecture I responded to a trivial question with an apparently laudable answer. Professor Meriwether naturally awarded 10 points to Ravenclaw. Ten points which I then refused. My classmates were stunned to say the least. To see an entire year of Ravenclaws reduced to looking like a bunch of slack-jawed 'Puffs was far more gratifying than some stupid stones in an hourglass. When I then demanded that any house points earned by my excellence be awarded to Slytherin house, a holy hell broke loose. Such a commotion of screaming and wand waving forced Meriwether to dismiss the class while I was sent to my head of house for a stern talking to about the importance of house loyalty in the Hogwarts community. Professor Armand blathered on for so long that I was lost my temper and declared that I had more house loyalty coming out of my arse than she had raven feathers coming out of hers. I was awarded with a week's detention._

_At the very least I thought that I thought that I'd get some sort of acknowledgement from some Slytherin students. A folly. Many sneered at me or made snide comments about my being a worm in a bird's feathers. Not the cleverest of insults. This morning I was cornered by a group of 5_ _th_ _years (including my silent, glaring brother hiding toward the back) and the leader of the pack threatened me with a number of nasty hexes should I try to help their house. "Slytherin doesn't need the help of some snake-fanboy_ _**Ravenclaw** _ _. You're not one of us and you never will be, so back the bloody hell off."- Was among the complaints directed towards me, as I remember them. Not surprisingly, my housemates have declared me a persona non grata. I have twice found snake scales in my bed and many of my possessions have been strewn about the dungeons (luckily I had the foresight to place a trace spell on all of my things)._

_I was prepared to deal with the cold shoulder from my_ _**housemates** _ _, but the reactions from the Slytherins and even several of the professors have been…unsettling. This added to the continued lack of communication from my parents has consumed my every worry and minute to the point where I cannot turn to books or my studies for distraction or comfort. The truth (because if I cannot confess it here, where can I?) is that I am terribly and completely lonely._

* * *

"This is a very sad story."

"I supposed I never noticed all the Ravenclaw-bashing on my first read. Sorry if it's hard to swallow"

Luna turned away from Draco on the small cot and largely ignored his last statement. "To be that alone is one of the worst things a person could go through, even if he did it to himself."

The last three months of gut-wrenching isolation at school came back to Draco all at that moment. He grunted, "Well there's another entry that might cheer you up and make you forget your own Loonliness(1) for a bit. Shall I continue?" Luna twitched a little at the mockery.  _Back to basics. This has gotten way to heavy for me to deal with and Lovegood and I have gotten way too familiar. I need to keep my distance before my aunt finds me my own basement flat down here._

She turned back to Draco and nodded.

"Okay then."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Loony+Loneliness= Loonliness. I should trademark it.
> 
> A/N Ok so this is part one of what is technically a whole chapter. I just wanted to have something up for you guys now and I'll finish the second part SOON and post it. Draco's backsliding a bit in their relationship, but how far will he devolve? Time will tell, kiddies.
> 
> Plus: next up is another much longer journal entry featuring your favorite twins! (ok, maybe second favorite)


	12. Chapter 12

My heart's beating so fast I can barely write! It's almost 4 in the morning, I've gotten NONE of my potion's homework finished and Meriwether will never introduce me to the Under-Secretary to the Belgian Wand-Safety Ambassador now! I tried to tell those two idiots this when they practically kidnapped me after dinner in the Great Hall. I swear they'll make nothing of themselves and only prove their unfortunate blood status right!

I'd rather hand in nothing than besmirch my academic record with work that would suggest anything less than mastery of the assignment, but I'm also much too wired to sleep. I very much doubt that I will ever repeat the antics that I performed tonight with my cousins, so I will spend these last hours of darkness quickly recording all that happened so that I may never forget or repeat similar mistakes.

I mentioned that Lorcan and Lysander accosted me in the Great Hall, and indeed I was. As I finished the last of my pudding, some near-squib from the Gryffindor table flung a bit of mashed potato at the back of my head, and poorly I might add, as it was clearly projected with an ill-focused levitation spell. I turned to mock my harasser's subpar spellman-ship, but before I could scrape the mashed off my neck there was a yell from above. Wrapped and dangling from one of the large dangling Gryffindor banners was Matthew Plutarch, the resident 5th year half-troll. Swathed in the red and gold cloth, he resembled a very lumpy jelly-tart. His muffled screams were just barely discernable, "You bloody bastards! Let me down or your muggle-whore mother will get it!"

"You hear that, Lysander? Plutarch here knows our dear old mum!" Horrified, I turned around to see my defender. Lorcan strolled unhurried to stand next to his brother whose wand was still poised to hex Plutarch at whim. Lysander's unsettling amethyst eyes did not move from his prey, though he answered his brother:

"He has us at a disadvantage then. Puke, if you do get in touch with mummy, do mention that her sons are so grateful to her for whelping the two glories of Hufflepuff house but decidedly less so for dumping us on the Old Mud Worm of House Malfoy." He bowed then as students began to either giggle or whisper to each other to note the absent of any faculty from the Great Hall, something about which I had been wondering myself.

Lorcan grabbed an apple from the table and bit deeply before nodding to his brother with a full mouth, "There's enough airing of family grievances for one meal, wouldn't you say, Lys? Back to the business at hand." It was then that I thought I could slink out quietly to the library and bury my braggart cousins' antics and my classmates' scorn in the reading of an old magical tome. Before I could gather my things, I felt two hands lift me bodily by my armpits.

"Ah, coz! So glad we could help you free up your evening!" This was Lorcan speaking now, with a large foolish grin on his round face.

"The night is ours, Rad. Let us go nobly in to the fray and come back with our shields or on them!" Lysander added with annoyingly false solemnity. I demanded that they unhand me but Lorcan responded by pointing out that it was very difficult for him to obey the orders of an albeit beloved family member when he was covered in cold mashed taters. The bastard. They both tugged me more insistently down and out of the Great Hall and toward winding stairs that I had never climbed.

I eventually sorted my self out to the point where I could clutch to the railing stop their quickly paced ascent. Lorcan looked at me like an exasperated professor of remedial potions. "Come on, Rad. This is cute but this little adventure has a delicate time frame, so please stop being so fussy and let's go."

"Where are we going? What are we doing in such a hurry?" I asked them while firmly wrapped around the marble railing.

Lorcan answered me while Lysander glanced nervously around. Actually, "nervously" is admittedly a projection of my own feelings, then and now. Lysander looked merely alert, but also unconcerned and cool. Given what their plans had been, I almost admire how equable he remained throughout the night's affairs. "The time frame is not so much delicate as explosive. As in, we exploded half of the potion stores in the dungeon and tossed in some rather volatile plants from Greenhouse 4 for good measure to occupy far away from our target. We made a short stop in the Great Hall because Lys complained of hunger" He looked seriously at me again, "One really should not adventure on an empty stomach, coz. Remember that." He smiled again before continuing, "Naturally the sojourn took us a bit off-schedule, which has left time of the essence. So, up you go now." There was a flash and a sting of pain on my arms that had been wrapped around the stair.

"But where are you going?" I asked again while rubbing my arms.

Lysander looked back at me as he and his brother started to climb the stairs again. "Come if you are coming, go back to the Hall and your many friends and admirers if you are not."

I bristled at this at once. "Why won't you bloody bastards just tell me—"

Lorcan cut in. "I see why you and Puke get along so well. We are going to the headmaster's office, recently empty and ripe for the plundering. You in?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I churned this one out to make up for it. In this chapter and the last there has been a few Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire references. If youre a fan, see if you can spot them!

Lovegood's eyes were large as saucers when Draco paused in his reading to conjure a glass of water. He did not offer it to Lovegood or respond to her musing, "It's so sad that the mother couldn't stay with her sons. It must have been so hard for them."

 _The muggle bint probably figured out that she couldn't squeeze any money out of The Worm and fucked off._ Lorcan and Lysander may have been erased from popular history by generations of Malfoys, but the reputation of Ramsay Malfoy was well known.  _No, the lecherous mad man feasted on the flesh of centaurs but near doubled our fortune during his reign as patriarch. Who could feel shame in descending from such a hero?_ Draco scowled and read on.

* * *

_Imagine my shock! The headmaster's office?! Uninvited and unannounced, madness! The very thought should have gotten us expelled. And yet, in what I only assume was a fit of lunacy…I was intrigued. The books and secret knowledge that must be hidden up there! Not to mention the portraits of past heads of the school. Just a few minutes talking to any of them would be a treasure trove over which any bumpkin in my pitiable house would be Slytherin green with envy. Not that I care, of course._

" _What do you want from Professor Krinklebump's tower?" I had asked. They surely would never have the same noble motivations as me, or so I thought. It turns out that puffs can be just as tricky as a snake if needed._

" _Glory, maybe. Fame, possibly." Lorcan had grinned. He does that so often I'd like to hex his teeth black._

" _Truth, definitely," Lysander had confessed. "And one smelly old hat."_

* * *

Draco cut his narrative at the sound of voices and feet on the stairs outside the dungeon. He waved his wand and shrunk down the leather-bound book to the size of a knut and slipped it in to his pocket next to the Abraxas stone.(1) He jumped off the cot and aimed his wand at the door, not looking at Lovegood.  _For Merlin's sake I was petting her hair just minutes ago as she cried._ Disgusted and afraid of his parents, Draco slipped into an aloof stance of disinterest as his father came charging through the door.

"Throw him down here, Bellatrix. He can share a cell with the lunatic." His arched and elegant eyebrows rose at the sight of his son in the cellar. "Draco, what are you doing down here?"

His mother and aunt followed in before Draco could answer. The darker woman dragged behind her a rope-bound man with a black hood concealing his face. She ripped off the hood to reveal an aged and haggard looking man with large pale eyes. Draco looked upon his old wandmaker and clutched his weapon tighter, as if it would recognize its first master and abandon him.

"Quite the menagerie the manor has become, father. What has this one done, poked one of the Dark Lord's acolytes in the eye with a piece of wood?"

Ollivander looked at his former patron with an unreadable expression. "Ten inches precisely, Hawthorne wood with a unicorn hair core.  _Reasonably pliant_." At that last, the old wandmaker nodded at Draco with a glint of knowing that unsettled him.

"It is not for you to question what our Lord wants. He honors us with the responsibility of guarding his known and subjugated enemies," Bella preached. "This one, weak as he is, may not last the night. Sister, we should assign that house elf to look after his care, if not his comfort." She sneered at Ollivander and at kicked him with her heeled boot. He stumbled forward and fell to the hard ground.

Lovegood jumped off her cot and rushed to help Ollivander, but was pitched backward by a spell cast by Draco's mother. Obviously his mother had little issue with her waning magics when it came to attacking helpless prisoners.  _I wonder if Bella's notion that our reduction to no more than groundskeepers in the Dark Lord's service is actually some sign of a favor has helped with some of Mother's nerves. There's no way she could actually believe such nonsense._ Narcissa Malfoy strode forward to stand next to her wandless husband. "Not another move blood traitor," she turned to look at her son with a haughty expression. "Really Draco, even as a play thing, this filth befouls the family name." She turned on her heal and walked out of the cellar, her sister cackling after her.

Draco was a tumult of emotions, all of which he prayed did not show on his face while his father still looked at him. With a call, Lucius summoned Gerda and instructed her to care for Ollivander's wounds before addressing his son. "Your mother's right, son. Dalliances with blood traitors are the last thing our family needs right now. You, strumpet," he said to Lovegood, "should best direct your desperate and wanton eyes elsewhere . There are much more  _uncomfortable_  cells in the bowels of his manor that you will find yourself in if you don't keep your legs closed."

"Father—"

"-Are we of an understanding, Draco?"

 _It doesn't matter if he's got it right. Fucking her would be one thing, but the truth of it is just too damn absurd to explain._ Draco desperately wanted to laugh.  _I should just tell him I spend my time reading her bedtime stories while she braids my hair. My own father would throw me to Greyback in a second._

"Yes, father."

Lucius followed his wife and sister-in-law out of the cellar and slammed the heavy door shut behind his whirling cape. As soon as the room fell into silence Lovegood was up again to Ollivander's side, cooing over the old man.

"Are you okay, Mr. Ollivander? How badly are you hurt?" She asked while holding his bound hand.

"I will be okay, child. I am in the excellent care of Mistress Elf." Gerda shuttered at the honorific but continued cleaning and bandaging a shallow cut on the man's brow. "I'm sorry but I have no memory of your face. Perhaps you were one of master Qyburn's patrons? He always did like to experiment with more, ah, alternative methods of the craft."

Lovegood brightened with a shining smile. "No, Mr. Ollivander, I always used my mother's wand. My name is Luna Lovegood and my parents are Xenophilius and Jeyne Westerling."

Ollivander chuckled. "Of course, Jeyne! Holly handle and weirwood shaft with an unusual core—"

"As riveting as this is, prisoner, you will tell me what you did to have so displeased the Dark Lord." Draco didn't particularly care, though it was a passing odd that such a feeble old man was valuable enough to the Dark Lord to keep as a prisoner instead of just knocking off. He did however bristle at being ignored by even his own house elf.

"Get rid of his binds. He's hurt." Lovegood still held to the wandmaker's wrinkled hand.

"Don't give me orders." Draco liked this situation less and less. He needed to get out of the cellar and away from Lovegood, who was now gently stroking Ollivander's hand to comfort him as Gerty methodologically went over his bruises. For some reason the sight angered him as much his mother's assumptions. He waved his wand and removed the tight ropes around the wandmaker. Ollivander sighed and slumped to lean on Lovegood's shoulder.

"Well, is that better? Can you talk now or shall I get you a pillow and cup of tea."

"If master would like Gerda to get these things, Gerda can—"

"SHUT UP AND DO AS YOUR TOLD!" Draco's head was pounding and he felt completely out of control. Luna was looking at him like he was a giant bloody spider.

"Forget it. I'm out of here." He banished the lamp by the door and slammed it closed harder than his father had. He left the prisoners in darkness and heard his name faintly being called from below as he stomped up the stairs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys! Reviews are swell as well. I have some test coming up so it may be a minute before i can post the next chapter
> 
> Edit: I realized that I changed Gerda's name to Gerty in this chapter, so I fixed it. Plus I forgot in an earlier chapter that I mentioned Narcissa having problems with magic in a similar way to Dumbledore's theory about Merope Gaunt. So I fixed that too. In between this and the next chapter I'm going to take copious notes and make some sort of web to keep track of these things. I hate continuity errors and I'm so sorry about messing up to you guys who read through this chapter before I changed it. My extreme bad!
> 
> (1) if you forgot what this is, which makes sense since it's been so long since i've updated consistently, check out chapter 6


	14. Chapter 14

Luna couldn't see the house elf disappear, but the sound of her Disapparating in the completely dark and empty room caused Mr. Ollivander to jump in surprise. The sudden movement was too much for the beaten old man and he let out a deep groan as he slumped down on to Luna's shoulder.

"Fickle thing, Hawthorne, though extremely empathetic and helpful to wizards who find themselves castaway in a storm with no boat." He chuckled, "Can you think of any better suited than Mr. Malfoy at this moment, Ms. Lovegood?"

Luna smiled as she helped Mr. Ollivander blindly, but deftly, on to the cot. "Us."

"Perhaps," he mused softly. The cot creaked as he laid himself down. "But you and I, my dear, know where we stand I think. Can Mr. Malfoy say the same?"

"No," she answered, and knew it to be true.  _But I also know he is volatile and the truth is that the next time I hear foot steps on the stone stairs it could easily be him, seconds away from turning that "empathetic" wand on me._

"Are you comfortable?"

He laughed again, with a little less strain than before. "Compared to my last lodgings, I'd say I couldn't find a thing to complain about. The company is markedly improved as well." He patted her hand that rested on the edge of the cot.

Luna turned to look in to the blackness, searching for something to talk about. She never had a problem talking to strangers, exactly, just a habit of making them uncomfortable. Normally, when she first met a group of people, the conversation would be decidedly one-sided, as the others always seemed to be exchanging pregnant looks with each other before someone would respond. It was a rather strange way to spend an evening at the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall, let alone a dark and cold dungeon with a perfect stranger.  _Mr. Ollivander has been through a great deal, and is going through considerable effort to conceal his injuries from me. I don't want to make him feel awkward, especially since there is no one to share looks about me with._

He groaned again as he adjusted himself on the cot. "Nothing to worry about, Ms. Lovegood. Time heals all things, and for what it cannot: wands. That's something your mother told me once, if I remember correctly, and I usually do."

"You knew my mother well?" Luna asked with animation that would have startled her peers at Hogwarts.

"I know everybody that comes into my shop and is found by a wand well, I can say without much hubris. I know the wands, and the wands know the wizards. But as to Jeyne, she apprenticed with me soon after she left Hogwarts and before she married your father. It was a partnership I had suspected would happen after her first time in my shop when my last wand with a leached will-o'-the-wisp core chose her. It is an excellent conduit for illusion spells, as cores go, but rather erratic and I stopped crafting with them decades ago. Of course, my colleague Emilija Jansons wrote an article for  _Wand Mastery Monthly_ that attempts to prove that the substances flaws can be balanced with an injection of—I'm sorry, my dear, you were of course asking about your mother."

"Oh no need to apologize! This is all so  _interesting._ My father once published a telemancer's research about the long debated theory that if you offered a wisp a tribute of sweetened bread after letting it guide you until you were hopelessly lost and hungry, it would tell you the secrets of it's perfect invisibility." Luna was  _burning_ to learn about her mother from this man that was so separate from her family, but couldn't help being distracted by the musings of a fellow scholar.

"A Ravenclaw, eh? Haven't met one this easy to spot since Hermione Granger walked in to my shop, though Albus told me she went her own way in the end, as some do. The wand suits you, Luna Lovegood, take care of it, should you cross paths again."

"Yes, sir."

There was a loud pop, though this time Mr. Ollivander didn't jump too badly. A light suddenly appeared, illuminating Gerda's fingers and the tray she was holding in her other hand. "Gerda has brought tea and pillows for the master's prisoners."

"Gerda, I don't think Draco—"

"Thank you, mistress elf. Also, I believe your master mistakenly took that lantern he meant us to have. It's hard to demoralize your captives if they cannot see the hopelessness of their cage." A lantern, identical to the one Draco had banished appeared next to the cot before the elf Disapparated again.

"What if they punish her for disobeying them?" Luna asked worriedly.

"I doubt they'll appear again before Gerda has a chance to take away the tray. They're very preoccupied with something; He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named apparently almost caught Harry Potter on Christmas, only to have the boy escape from his clutches yet again. I overheard them frantically whispering about it before I was brought here. "

Luna was startled, "Harry is my  _friend._ They took me because they wanted to scare my father into stop publishing his support in  _The Quibbler._ They also think I that I know something about where he is or what he's doing but I  _don't._ " Tears leaked from her eyes.

Ollivander patted her hand again and offered her tea. "And what a friend he must be. You should take care of him too, should you meet again. Great men are often reckless and don't seek council from…unexpected places." He smiled at her.

"Well we shall need to pass the time somehow until Bellatrix Lestrange decides its time for our next questioning. When I was in school, one Ravenclaw out of three wanted to learn the mysterious arts of wand-making. Though perhaps the dream of becoming a master wandmaker has gone out of style." He chucked to himself. "It has been some time since I've been to Hogwarts or taken a novice apprentice. Would you be interested in learning some wandlore?"

Luna brightened, "Yes! And more about my mother, please. What she was like, what she researched, anything, and in return…"  _What could I have to offer the preeminent wandmaker in Britain?_

"In return? Don't think of it, my dear. If I should not escape from this dungeon and the last thing I did was instruct one last apprentice…well I'll consider all accounts settled. Let us begin with a story, a tale perhaps that I know for a fact your father has told you because it was a favorite of your mothers, of an all powerful wand that has captured the minds of academics and bravos alike for centuries and has inspired many a Ravenclaw to pursue wandlore."

Luna took a sip of tea and inched closer to the wandmaker and tried to banish thoughts of Gerda, Harry, and Ginny and Neville at Hogwarts out her mind.  _It will be easy not to think of Draco, especially his rages and especially his tears, I think._

But that wasn't true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay to be honest, I know where I'm going with the diary excerpts, but I haven't figured out how I'm going to do some stuff. That was part of the long hiatus. I'll get back to L,L&R in the chapter after next.
> 
> I was thinking how strange it must be for Luna to experience people reacting to her, when she doesn't feel abnormal. When you reread some scenes from the books from Luna's perspective, you can't help but feel like everyone else is a bit of a shit. Which is why it was cool for Ollivander to be a fellow weirdo and for her to find someone to raise that freak flag with in desperate times.
> 
> How did you like the exchange between Ollivander and Luna? I like fleshing out Luna's mother, since we don't know anything about her in the books. I also liked creating a new relationship that is similar in structure to Luna and Draco's. Ollivander offers knowledge and interests her. More than Draco? Probably not. But hey, he's not going to kill her and Draco might at any point (okay, we know he doesn't). I'd like to think that Draco will be jealous of this new relationship and either act badly, or step up and change? Who knows? I do. It's my story. And you'll find out next chapter :D
> 
> Reviews are sweet.


	15. Chapter 15

A wave of wand sent his 2nd year school tome into the ornate fireplace. He had been working backwards from the books he'd need when he returned to Hogwarts after the winter holiday.  _A laughable concept. Crabbe and Goyle spent a better part of autumn chucking their required reading at Hufflepuff second years._ The better part of each class was spent with "guest lecturers"(Death Eaters) bloviating on how the material could be used to subjugate muggles or protect the purity of the wizarding race. In fact, the classes, which featured very little practical execution, resembled Umbridge's brand of teaching from 5th year.  _She should have gotten a patent._

Draco smiled as he remembered that the only class that soldiered on as it always had was Transfiguration.  _McGonagall proved herself indomitable. It will be a real loss when the Dark Lord orders her death._ Another book, one adorned with the handsome grin of Gilderoy Lockhart, went soaring into the fire.

He flung his covers to the floor and dropped the abraxas stone into his dressing gown pocket. Clearly the Latin lessons with Lovegood were put on hold, indefinitely, but the stone and its potential power were still comforting.

His stomach ached with something much worse than hunger as he dragged himself to Sunday breakfast. His father had taken his frustrations out on him yesterday, and the shame still burned in his cheeks. The man had been the right hand of the most powerful wizard on the planet, and now? He was barely lord of his son. Draco managed little pity for the man as he scratched at the Dark Mark on his arm.

His father sat reading the  _Daily Prophet_  at the head of long table in their dining room, but both his mother and aunt were absent. Lucius heard his son approach and peer over his paper. As held he Draco's gaze he called out, "Sappy, bring Draco his brunch." The house elf appeared and silently set a place for Draco at the left of his father. Draco lost his father to the large folds of the  _Prophet_  as he crossed to sit beside him. Sappy bowed unacknowledged and disapperated.

Draco cut his eggs and bacon, satisfied that the only conversation that his father would hear from him was the clicking of the silverware. Of course, Lucius Malfoy was a man rarely so satisfied.

"Boy…" He began carefully.

"Old man?"Draco returned lightly. Lucius slammed his paper on to the table, knocking his juice glass to the floor.

"YOUR TONE—"

"—Is the least of your problems, I think. Honestly, Father, you sit here like you aren't a prisoner in your own home, reading the goddamn  _Prophet!_ What, checking your investments? I'll save you the time: They're shit. Everything is shit."

Lucius smiled, and snapped his fingers, summoning Sappy to clean up the mess. It was an old smile; one Draco was used to but hadn't seen in some time. Still, the recent lines and cracks on his father's face rendered the grin somehow both more sinister and pathetic.

"That's a bit more drama than I usually allow at breakfast, Draco, especially when we're graced with the rare treat of your aunt's absence. I'll let pass your vile expectoration and attribute it to childish dramatics. You're afraid, I know.

"Of course I'm—"

"—We've stumbled. I've stumbled.  _You_  have, as well," He paused and gave his son a knowing look. "But our family has a dynasty over one thousand years old. We've reigned beside dark princes, kings, and conquerors, whose lineages lasted less than a generation. We will not be snuffed out, the idea is laughable."

"The Malfoy name  _is_ laughable. Father, the Dark Lord pays us no favors."

"The Dark Lord? Why, I think they stylized Armand Malfoy the same way, after he helped William the Conqueror take the English throne. Ramsay Malfoy was also referred to by that title in his own time and then, only in whispers. "Lucius' grin broadened. "Winds change, a Slytherin knows this."

"Winds change? A Slytherin knows? ALL THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN BLOODY WELL USEFUL BEFORE I GOT THIS!" Draco shouted and thrust his blackened forearm at his father.

Lucius' eyes narrowed and even the memory of the earlier smile forgotten. "I am head of this family, you've forgotten. You've forgotten who we are and what your mother and I have given you," Draco subtly placed a hand over his clothes and felt the coolness of his stone. "I suggest you spend some time in our library educating yourself on the Malfoy legacy, before I include you in any further plans." Draco thought of Radagast's diary and didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry hysterically.  _He's really off his rocker if he thinks a little homework will solve our problems._  "I'll excuse myself to the library then, and leave you to your…plans."

* * *

Draco did go to the library, but only to think on his father's words. He had the Malfoy family history memorized.  _Or at least the selected history that Father and Mother loved to regale guests with at parties hosted at the manor._ Still, while Lucius was clearly delusional and in denial of the direness of their current situation, the greatness and endurance of the Malfoy line was a fact of history.  _Fine, let father plan his plans and pretend he is still leading our family into a new era. I will make sure we succeed in this one._

And with that promise, Draco rose and made his way to the cellar.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to do a chapter that paralleled the Mother and Son interaction between Draco and Narcissa from a few chapters ago. I like how this came out and I prefer this delusional Lucius to the typical broken down and pathetic version. Next up is a diary chapter, which should be fun to write and read. Let me know what you think of this chapter and what you think will go down when Draco returns to Hogwarts in a bit. Reviews are lovely.


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